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THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


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MEMOHIAL 


OF 


Frederick  S.  Huntington, 


PREPARED  BY  HIS  BROTHER, 


W.     E.     HUNTINGTON. 


a  S^etcl)  of  l}ts  £tfe, 

OCCASIONAL  HYMNS,  SERMONS— TREES  OF  THE  KINGDOM. 


"And  he  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water, 
that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season  ;  his  leaf  also  shall  not 
wither;  and  whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper."  — Ps.  1.  3. 


BOSTON : 

PRINTED  FOR  FRIENDS. 

1891. 


CONTENTS. 


LIFE   OF  FREDERICK  S.  HUNTINGTON. 


Chap. 

I.  Childhood  and  Farm  Life 

11.  Education    . 

III.  Vocation 

IV.  City  Ministry 
V.  A  Year  Abroad  . 

VI.  The  Country  Parish 

VII.  The  Final  Call  . 


Page 
3 

20 

37 

49 

59 

76 

93 


Funeral  Aodress  and  Other  Tributes    .       107 
Occasional  Hymns 121 


SERMONS. 

The  Tree  of  Search    . 
The  Tree  of  Conviction 
The  Tree  of  Growth  . 
The  Tree  of  Redemption 
The  Tree  of  Life 


135 
154 
171 
184 
19G 


Ji-^d 


?^- 


CO 


FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 


CHAPTER   I. 

CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM   LIFE. 

.  .  .  Not  in  vain 
By  day  or  starlight,  thus  from  my  first  dawn 
Of  childhood  didst  thou  intertwine  for  me 
The  passions  that  build  up  our  human  soul ; 
Not  with  tlie  mean  and  vulgar  worl?;s  of  man  ; 
But  with  high  objects,  vrith  enduring  things, 
With  life  and  nature ;  purifying  thus 
The  elements  of  feeling  and  of  thought. 

Wordsworth. 

Frederick  Sargent  Huntington,  the 
seventh  child  of  William  Pitkin  and  Lucy 
Edwards  Huntington,  was  born  in  Mil- 
waukee, Wis.,  April  29,  1852. 

Before  he  was  two  years  of  age  the  fam- 
ily removed  to  a  farm,  situated  in  a  roman- 
tic corner  of  the  beautiful  town  of  Medina, 
Dane  County,  Wis.  ;  and  here  it  was  that 
Frederick  found  the  arena  for  all  those 
robust  energies   which   characterized  him 


4     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

throuo'hout  his  life.  The  curly-headed 
child,  with  his  large,  expressive,  blue 
eyes  and  sunny  face,  as  he  is  remem- 
bered by  the  older  members  of  the  house 
hold,  gave  promise  of  just  the  man  that 
has  actually  lived  and  rounded  out  such 
rich  fulfilments.  He  has  not  disappomted 
the  manifest  Providence  that  sent  him 
into  the  world,  but  filled  out  a  destiny  for 
which  he  was  evidently  made  and  en- 
dowed. 

A  western  farm  is  no  easy  school.  Its 
lessons  are  long  and  diflDCult.  The  condi- 
tions do  not  allow  for  many  of  the  enthu- 
siasms, the  mental  friction  and  stimulus, 
the  occasional  intellectual  outlooks  and 
uplifts  that  most  schools  give  to  their  dili- 
gent scholars.  Frederick  was  a -boy  upon 
one  of  those  half-subdued  forms  where  all 
hands,  little  and  big,  must  take  hold  and 
do  something.  Unfenced  pastures  lying 
alongside  of  the  arable  fields  called  for  a 
swift-footed  boy  to  supply  the  lack  of  a 
half  mile  of  fence,  that  cattle  and  sheep 
might  be  kept  in  proper  bounds.  The 
village,  two  miles  away,  must  frequently 
be   visited,    to    supply   the    wants    of    a 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM   LIFE.  0 

numerous  family,  and  the  boy  must  run  on 
the  errands.  Across  the  wide  stretch  of 
a  larofe  farm,  tools  must  be  carried,  lunches 
and  cold  water  for  hired  men.  Chores  ! 
Is  there  any  other  name  that  to  a  farm 
boy  has  such  fathomless  depths  of  sugges- 
tion? In  the  house  and  outside  of  the 
house,  for  the  stock,  for  the  care  of  tools 
and  machinery,  there  are  multitudes  of 
duties  for  which  no  catalogue  can  be  made. 
And  the  boys  are  just  the  ones  to  "  do 
chores." 

Frederick's  inventive  powers  began  to 
show  themselves  at  an  early  age  —  in  mak- 
ing toys  and  tools.  He  generally  had 
something  on  hand  upon  w^hich  he  could 
exercise  his  constructive  talents  —  if  it  was 
nothing  more  than  a  kite  or  a  trap.  The 
time  taken  for  such  work  was  generally  on 
rainy  days,  and  at  odd  moments,  often  at 
the  noon  hour,  wdien  teams  were  feeding 
and  men  were  restinsf.  His  lars^est  under- 
taking  in  the  way  of  any  farm  structure 
w  as  in  his  fifteenth  or  sixteenth  year.  The 
farm  was  irregularly  bisected  by  a  stream 
—  Waterloo  Creek  —  which  w^as  fordable 
during  most  of  the  year,  when  not  sealed 


6  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

over  with  ice.  But  at  frequent  intervals, 
by  the  fall  of  heavy  rains,  this  creek  was 
rendered  impassable,  and  farm  work  was 
consequently  liable  to  interruption.  Fred- 
erick set  himself  to  the  task  of  brido^ino^ 
this  stream ;  and  succeeded  in  spanning 
the  current  with  a  substantial  bridge,  which 
served  a  useful  purpose  for  some  time. 
This  inventive  trait  is  worthy  of  mention  at 
this  early  period  of  his  life,  for  Frederick 
was  rarely  ever  without  some  interest  that 
he  carried  on  aside  from  regular  work, 
which  called  into  exercise  his  ingenuity. 
As  a  student  he  was  never  satisfied  with 
a  hum-drum  routine  simply,  but  was  doing 
somethini2:  besides  the  resrular  tasks  for 
useful  recreation.  As  a  minister  he  was 
full  of  expedients  by  which  to  enlarge  and 
enrich  his  own  life  and  the  lives  of  his 
parishioners,  as  will  appear  later  on  in  this 
story  of  his  career.  As  we  think  of  those 
early  years  spent  upon  the  old  farm,  and 
of  the  comparative  dulness  of  the  hard 
routine,  it  seems  like  a  gracious  compen- 
sation of  Providence  that  he  was  endowed 
with  a  rich  poetic  nature.  He  was  gifted 
with  eyes  that  fell  quickly  and  lovingly 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM    LIFE.  7 

upon  every  beautiful  thing  in  nature  ;  with 
a  heart  that  was  easily  and  deeply  stirred 
by  the  varying  phases  of  seasons,  sky,  and 
landscape.  This  set  of  powers  was  no 
doubt  partly  an  inheritance,  for  father 
and  mother  both  possessed  decided  aes- 
thetic tastes.  Both  loved  music,  poetry, 
flowers,  the  loveliness  of  a  sunset,  the 
majesty  of  a  thunder-storm.  They  were 
always  fond  of  noticing  these  beautiful 
things,  calling  the  attention  of  the  children 
to  the  expressive  features  of  the  world 
about  them,  which  tend  to  cultivate  and 
stimulate  the  aesthetic  sense.  Father  was 
very  fond  of  giving  appropriate  and  sig- 
nificant names  to  difterent  parts  of  the 
farm,  which  in  its  diversity  and  romantic 
features  invited  just  this  poetic  nomen- 
clature. 

He  called  the  farm  "Cedar  Bluffs,"  for 
the  boldest  parts  of  the  estate  were  the 
steep  wooded  border  of  the  creek,  where 
several  l)eautiful  red-cedar  trees  2:rew  — 
the  only  evergreens  of  that  region. 
"Pleasant  Hill,"  "Long  Meadow,"  "The 
Copse,"  "Twin  Meadows,"  "Plum  Thick- 
et," "  Long  Point,"  are  a  few  of  the  many 


8  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

names  which  were  to  the  family  familiar 
designations,  and  stood  for  exact  localities 
within  the  farm  limits.  This  facility  in 
giving  poetic  and  expressive  names  to  in- 
dividual parts  of  the  homestead  was  only 
one  side  of  father's  wise  way  of  walking 
through  the  paths  of  daily  farm  work. 
He  thus  threw  out  his  imaginative  powers. 
He  had  also  a  laroe  fund  of  exact  knowl- 

CD 

edge.  This  came  out  at  odd  times,  uncon- 
sciousl3^  and  without  pedantry.  He  had, 
in  early  life,  acquired  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  botany.  It  was  after  his  gradu- 
ation from  Harvard  College,  in  1824,  and 
in  connection  with  his  medical  studies  that 
he  gathered  and  analyzed  a  large  collec- 
tion of  plants  and  flowers.  His  tenacious 
memory  carried  an  ample  list  of  names  of 
many  of  the  wild  flowers  that  grew  upon 
that  home  soil  ;  and  it  was  always  a  stim- 
ulus to  us  boys  to  see  father  stoop  down 
in  the  meadow  or  in  the  field  and  pick  up 
a  fragrant  bud,  an  aromatic  root,  or  a 
blushing  flower,  and  give  it  the  exact  Latin 
or  botanical  name.  Many  a  time  since 
those  farm  days,  as  I  have  seen  Frederick 
admiring  some  tender  flower,  or  pointing 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM   LIFE.  9 

out  a  charming  landscape,  have  my 
thouglits  turned  hack  to  those  paternal 
examples  and  lessons.  So  it  is  that 
parents  mould  the  tastes  and  faculties  of 
their  children.  The  most  lastins:  thing's  in 
education,  both  in  home  and  school,  are 
sometimes  those  lessons  which  are  not 
recognized  as  lessons  at  all,  either  by 
teacher  or  the  taught.  This  tribute  is 
certainly  due  to  the  parental  influences 
which  nurtured  in  Frederick  the  fine,  sen- 
sitive tastes  which  were  such  a  charm  in 
his  character.  It  would  be  well  if  more 
of  such  influences  could  sift  themselves 
into  the  laborious  lives  of  the  farmer 
class.  No  part  of  our  population  has 
better  opportunities  to  see  and  to  feel  the 
tender,  beautiful,  and  suo'o^estive  thing's 
in  nature.  And  yet,  too  often,  the 
weary,  plodding  yeomanry  go  doggedly 
through  the  drudgeries  of  home  and 
field,  with  scarcely  a  strain  of  poetic 
feeling  to  relieve  the  everlasting  monot- 
ony of  toil. 

As  far  as  education,  in  its  technical 
sense,  was  concerned,  the  period  of  farm 
life  did  not  advance  Frederick  very  far. 


10     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

The  few  winter  weeks  when  the  district 
school  could  be  attended  were  something, 
—  at  least,  a  little  better  than  nothing. 
But  a  farmer  boy,  as  long  as  he  must  be 
attached  to  the  farm  work,  can  only 
acquire  the  crude  elements  of  an  educa- 
tion. Several  of  us  who  constituted  the 
older  members  of  the  group  of  children 
did  some  home  studying.  Our  Latin 
declensions  and  conjugations  were  put 
through  under  father's  ouidance.  And 
Frederick,  perhaps,  did  a  little  of  this 
hardest  kind  of  studying.  For  in  a  large 
family,  living  in  a  small  house,  with  so 
many  unclassical  and  unscientific  matters 
going  on  in  and  out  of  doors,  connected 
study  is  almost  an  impossible  thing,  if  not 
an  impertinent  attempt. 

Whatever  the  hand  of  this  vigorous 
boy  found  to  do,  he  did  with  his  might. 
Thoroughly  objective  in  his  whole  tem- 
per, habits  of  thinking  and  acting,  he 
turned  all  his  strenoth  into  the  work  to  be 
done,  or  the  pleasure  to  be  enjoyed. 
There  never  was,  in  any  period  of  his  life, 
anything  reserved,  constrained,  or  occult 
in  his  nature.     His  sensibilities  were  not 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM    LIFE.  H 

hidden  beneath  any  cautious  or  suspicious 
bearing    toward  the    world   around   him. 
Like  the  aiolian  harp  that  is  set  for  every 
moving  current  of  air  to  phiy  upon,  so  his 
heart  was  ready  to  give  its  answering  note 
to    every    influence   that    was  afloat,  and 
capable    of    awakening     human     feeling. 
This  fundamental  trait  alone  is  an  expla- 
nation, in  part,   at  least,    of  his  singular 
facility    in    making    friends.     Everybody 
loves  this  type  of  human  nature  —  open, 
sensitive,      responsive,      generous;     and 
Frederick,  from  boyhood  on,   was   loved 
by  all  who  knew  him.     He  was  also  very 
richly  endowed  with  a  relish  for  the  hu- 
morous.    He  had  the  powder  to  make  his 
own    humorous     mood    contagious.     His 
laugh  was  mirth-provoking.     The  twinkle 
of  his   eye  or  the  sly  wink  would  often 
upset  the  gravity   of  a  whole  company. 
Mimicry  was  one  of  his  boyhood  delights. 
Anything    that  was  queer,  grotesque,  or 
ridiculous  in  men  or  animals  around  him 
would   find    itself    reproduced    by    him. 
There  was  a  flexibility  in  his   facial  ex- 
pression   and     in    his    voice    a    power   to 
impersonate    that  gave  him  great  advan- 


12  FREDERICK    SARGENT    HUNTINGTON. 

tage  in  setting  fortli  the  funny  side  of 
things  as  he  saw  it. 

All  this,  however,  as  one  looks  back 
upon  his  life,  appears  simply  as  the  play 
of  golden  light  upon  the  surface  of  the 
sea.  His  mirth  and  frolics,  his  mimicry 
and  wit  were  the  fascinating  surface-play 
of  his  bright,  vivacious  powers.  Beneath 
this  no  one  ever  doubted  that  there  were 
deeps  of  rich,  substantial  character  which 
this  evanescence  could  neither  express  nor 
exhaust. 

Among  the  diversions  of  his  boyhood 
life  upon  the  farm,  I  must  not  fail  to  men- 
tion his  love  for  hunting,  lishing,  and  trap- 
ping. The  burrowing  musk-rat,  the  wild 
pigeons,  partridges,  quails,  and  ducks, 
which  found  a  cono-enial  habitat  in  the 
various  woods  and  meadows  of  the  region, 
seemed  to  awaken  in  Frederick  the  hunt- 
er's instincts  ;  for  he  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity for  a  good  shot.  And  his  success 
was  such  as  to  keep  up  his  interest  in  the 
sportsman's  life  as  long  as  he  remained 
upon  the  farm.  I  can  remember  the  glow 
upon  his  boyish  face  when,  at  one  time, 
he  brouo'ht  home  seven  wild  ducks  that  he 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM   LIFE.  13 

bad  bao-oed  from  one  sbot.  Tbis  taste  for 
a'amina'  brou^bt  bim  into  rehitions  of  warm 
and  interesting  friendsbip  witb  a  bacbelor 
wbo  was  tbe  Nimrod  of  our  neigbborbood. 
EHsba  Tracey,  a  Vermonter  of  genuine 
New  Engbmd  cbaracteristics,  lived  in  a 
small  bouse  upon  a  little  farm  balf  a  mile 
from  our  bome.  His  companions  were  a 
balf  dozen  cats ;  bis  room  was  scarcely 
more  tban  a  bunter's  lodge  ;  and  yet  Elisba 
was  a  kind  of  oracular  autbority  for  tbe 
boys  upon  all  matters  pertaining  to  tbe 
arts  of  fisbing  and  bunting.  He  was  a 
splendid  marksman  bimself.  He  knew 
every  nook  and  corner  of  tbe  town  wbere 
game  could  be  found.  Of  genial,  jovial 
temper,  be  loved  notbing  better  tban  to 
ligbt  bis  pipe,  sit  by  bis  bbizing  fire,  and 
recount  to  tbe  bovs  bis  adventures  and 
successes  witb  gun  and  rod.  His  gifts 
for  story-telling  w^ere  quite  equal  to  bis 
skill  in  capturing  game  ;  and  it  was  bard 
to  tell  wbetber  be  did  not  furnisb  anotber 
example .  of  the  power  of  persuasive 
speecb  ;  for  it  is  doubtful  if  tbe  boys  would 
ever  bave  made  sucb  beroic  efforts  for  tbe 
game  —  not  very  abundant  tbere  —  bad  it 


14  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

not  been  that  Elisha  fired  their  ambition 
with  his  own  enthusiasm. 

But  the  chief  element  in  the  life  of 
Frederick  during  these  early  years  of 
country  life  is  still  to  be  mentioned.  His 
religious  history  began  then.  It  is  a  sad 
thing  for  any  one  to  pass  through  the  sus- 
ceptible period  of  childhood  and  not  feel 
the  profound  and  impressive  truths  of  the 
Christian  religion  as  a  personal  experience, 
moving  the  heart,  rousing  the  finer  sensi- 
bilities, sifting  the  character,  opening  the 
vision  to  the  high  and  holy  destiny  of  an 
immortal  soul.  For  if  one  grows  into  ma- 
ture life  without  lettino;  religious  thouo'ht 
and  motive  find  a  fixed  place  in  character, 
the  probabilities  are  very  much  against 
one's  taking  these  factors  into  experience 
after  habits  are  settled  and  sensibilities 
become  blunted.  Even  if  one  does  in 
riper  years  become  a  Christian,  he  loses 
much  of  the  power,  momentum,  and  fibre 
of  character  which  can  be  possessed  only 
by  letting  the  Christian  fiiith  possess  and 
transfuse  childhood. 

Frederick's  earliest  religious  experi- 
ences, as  they  became  definite,  pronounced 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FARM    LIFE.  15 

and  veal,  were  in  his  thirteenth  year.  The 
first  intimation  that  any  of  the  family  had 
that  he  was  thinking  seriously  and  person- 
ally of  religions  things  was  at  the  time  of 
some  special  services  held  in  Marshall,  at 
the  Methodist  church  which  the  family 
attended.  He  had  visited  some  of  these 
meetings,  and  had  become  deeply  inter- 
ested. To  sister  Katherine, — now  Mrs. 
Thomas  C.  Day,  of  Indianapolis,  — who 
was  nearest  to  him  in  age,  he  came  one 
day  with  the  announcement  of  wdiat  was 
going  on  upon  the  arena  of  his  innaost  life. 
He  had  asked  sister  Flora,  next  younger 
than  himself,  to  whom  he  had  ojiven  some 
intimation  of  what  he  had  to  tell,  to  bring 
Katherine  to  the  door,  where  he  stood 
just  outside,  and  when  she  met  him  he 
said,  half  apologetically,  "I  only  want  to 
tell  you  that  I  have  four.d  Christ."  Mrs. 
Day  W' rites  thus  of  her  remembrance  of 
the  l)eautiful,  impressive  event :  — 

"  It  was  about  sunset  on  a  bright  Sun- 
day  in  early  spring,  and  I  shall  never  for- 
get the  impression  made  upon  me  by  his 
changed  manner  and  earnest  though  happy 
tone.     He    stood   before    us — Flora    and 


16     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

myself —  uttering  words  new  and  strange 
to  our  ears,  yet  full  of  depth  and  power. 
His  face  was  radiant  with  a  lioht  which  we 
knew  was  sent  from  heaven  as  he  assured 
us  he  could  do  an^'thing  now  —  die,  if 
need  be  —  for  the  dear  Saviour.  With 
illumined  face  and  gleaming  eyes  he  de- 
clared with  boldness  and  energy  his  new 
faith.  Our  brother  had  suddenly  become 
exalted  in  our  eyes.  Would  that  I  could 
now  tell  him,  as  I  could  not  then,  how  I 
felt  humbled  and  rebuked  in  the  presence 
of  such  a  revelation  !  At  this  distance  I 
do  reverence  to  that  sweet  memory  of  a 
life  changed  before  our  very  eyes,  attested 
by  the  living  voice  of  our  Fred.  He 
asked  us  to  go  with  him  and  see  the  little 
tree  beneath  which  he  prayed  and  found 
Jesus.  No  wonder  he  sought  out  the 
significant  and  lesson-giving  "trees  of  the 
kingdom  "  in  his  later  ministry  around 
which  to  gather  his  series  of  earnest  ser- 
mons to  young  men,  which  are  printed  in 
this  volume.  The  tree  was  monumental 
to  him  of  one  of  the  great  events  in  his 
own  spiritual  history  ;  and  surely  for  his 
vigorous,    fruitful    life    we    may   find  the 


CIIILDUOOD    AND    FARM    LIFE.  17 

beautiful  emblem  in  the  Psalmist's  imagery, 
for  he  himself  was  '  like  a  tree  planted  by 
the  rivers  of  water ' ;  he  brought  forth 
*  fruit  in  his  season';  Miis  leaf  also  shall 
not  wither ' ;  whatsoever  he  did  hath 
prospered." 

A  year  or  so  after  this  consecration  of 
himself  to  Christ,  witnessed  thus  by  sis- 
terly affection  and  sympathy,  and  after 
some  varying  experiences  such  as  most 
young  Christians  meet,  as  they  pass  from 
the  tender  feelino's  which  linofer  like  a 
lovely  halo  about  the  inauguration  of 
religious  purposes  into  the  sharpness  of 
trial,  the  strain  of  tem})tation  ;  and  after 
he  had  become  conscious  that  he  had  not 
retained  possession  of  his  religious  life  as 
he  ought,  he  had  another  startling  experi- 
ence. He  was  in  usual  health,  when, 
one  night  after  retiring,  he  felt  that  he 
was  losing  his  breath,  and  called  Kathe- 
rine,  who  was  in  an  adjoining  room,  to 
come  and  help  him  to  a  window  for  the 
air.  After  a  moment  or  two  of  silence, 
in  which  he  was  evidently  making  a 
mental  surrender,  he  said  that  he  had 
been  assured  that  he  should  live.     He  had 


18     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

realized  that  his  life  had  lapsed  from  the 
former  state  of  conscious  peace  and  ac- 
ceptance with  God.  He  received  this 
token  as  a  visitation  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  having  crushed  the  incipient  rebellion 
in  his  heart  he  found  joy  and  satisfaction 
as^ain.  Katherine  and  Frederick  went 
down-stairs  together,  told  mother  of  the 
event,  and  received  her  witness  to  his  re- 
consecration  ;  for  she  was  deeply  impressed 
by  the  occurrence,  and  looked  upon  it  as 
a  sealing  of  his  discipleship. 

Frederick  was  not  fitted  by  nature  or 
by  grace  to  represent  an  ascetic  type  of 
Christian  piety.  His  Puritan  inheritances 
did  not  reveal  themselves,  on  the  religious 
side  of  his  life,  to  make  him  severe,  for- 
mal, dogmatic.  Firmness  of  purpose  he 
did  have,  which,  like  adamant,  would  not 
yield  where  principle  was  at  stake.  Those 
early  consecrations,  surrenders,  and  deter- 
minations were  the  solid  foundations  upon 
w^iich  he  rested  all  his  future.  The  little 
tree  was  to  him  what  the  patriarch's  lad- 
der was  to  him  ;  and  he  could  never  for- 
get the  glimpses  of  an  immortal  life  that 
came  to  his  soul  throuo:h  its  orreen  boughs. 


CHILDHOOD    AND    FAKM   LIFE.  l\) 

He  had  had  a  vision,  as  much  as  patriarch 
or  apostle,  and  he  was  confirmed,  by  those 
stirring  experiences  of  childhood,  in  his 
purpose  never  to  be  disobedient  to  that 
"heavenly  vision."  lie  had  serious  and 
even  tearful  hours.  Christian  livino^  was 
earnest  business,  as  he  conceived  it,  and 
not  a  mere  fancy.  Yet  he  always  saw  the 
joyous  side  of  the  Christian  taith,  and  ex- 
emplified its  brightness,  hopefulness,  and 
beauty  in  the  ideals  he  set  for  himself,  and 
afterwards  proclaimed  to  others  as  a 
preacher  of  the  truth. 


CHAPTER   II. 

EDUCATION. 

Life  is  the  test  of  learning.  Character  is  tlie 
criterion  of  knowledge.  Not  what  a  man  has,  but 
what  he  is,  is  the  question,  after  all.  The  quality 
of  soul  is  more  than  the  quantity  of  information. 
Personal,  spiritual  substance  is  the  final  resultant. 

Bishop  Huntington. 

The  period  of  his  farm  life  had  not 
been  a  favorable  one  to  Frederick,  in 
respect  to  mental  training  and  the  ac- 
quirements that  come  alone  by  study. 
Opportunity  for  the  pursuits  of  the 
scholar  had  to  yield  to  the  imperious 
necessities  of  the  farm  and  the  family. 
But  two  very  important  elements  in  prep- 
aration for  academic  life  were  included  in 
those  years  of  his  boyhood  spent  upon  the 
rugged  acres  of  "  Cedar  Bluffs."  In  the 
first  place,  he  established  himself  in  the 
possession  of  a  fine  physical  constitution. 
Of  compact  build,  naturally,  he  became 
muscular  and  strong  by  the  discipline  of 


EDUCATION.  21 

steady,  exacting  out-of-door  work.  He 
was  rarely  ill,  or  even  ailing  from  slight 
disorders.  So  that  the  fibre  of  his  physi- 
cal outfit  became  exceedingly  firm  and 
capable.  His  work  was  always  done  with 
a  certain  spring  and  momentum  which 
indicated  abounding  health,  and  an  alert, 
nervous  tone  of  bodily  life.  His  step 
indicated  purpose.  He  drove  the  plough 
or  the  reaper,  handled  axe  or  pitchfork  as 
if  he  was  master  of  the  tool,  and  was 
intending  to  push  the  work  to  its  end. 
No  better  gymnasium  has  been  invented 
for  training  boys  into  the  physical  equip- 
ment they  need  for  college  life  than  a 
large  farm,  with  its  varied  work.  If 
there  is  any  muscle  or  tendon,  any  nerve 
or  ligament  that  is  not  called  into  play  by 
the  active  vocation  of  a  farm  boy,  it  is 
very  certain  that  no  piece  of  gymnastic 
apparatus  will  find  out  such  hidden,  bod- 
ily powers.  The  other  preparation  for  in- 
tellectual development  and  accumulations 
which  had  not  been  neglected  in  his  train- 
ing thus  far  was  his  religious  character. 
Good  health  and  good  character,  a  sound 
body   and    a    consecrated    soul,    are   two 


22  FREDERICK    SARGENT    HUNTINGTON. 

elements  in  any  young  man's  life  of  im- 
mense importance  and  value.  We  are 
sometimes  almost  inclined  to  feel  that 
what  we  call  "  an  education  "  is  over-esti- 
mated. It  certainly  is  given  a  fictitious 
value  if  it  means  crowding  a  young  man 
or  a  young  woman  through  years  of  men- 
tal strain  at  the  expense  of  health,  so  that 
graduation  simply  launches  a  physical 
wreck  upon  a  career  of  disappointment,  a 
trained  mind  mismatched  with  an  un- 
trained, feeble  body.  This  is  much  to  be 
deplored.  But  the  other  side  of  life  neg- 
lected makes  education  seem  even  more 
"  a  vain  thing " ;  that  is,  when  it  is  an 
attempt  at  the  cultivation  of  the  mind 
without  the  substantial  basis  of  religious 
character. 

It  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  world 
wants  simply  educated  minds  for  its  ad- 
vancement, purification,  uplifting.  For 
mere  intelligence,  quickened  or  even  en- 
larged, is  not  of  itself  a  guaranty  of  good- 
ness in  the  individual  so  trained.  Refined 
social  conditions,  or  a  better  life  on  the 
whole  in  a  class  well  educated  but  unre- 
ligious,  are  not   at   all  certain  results  of 


EDUCATION.  23 

culture.    The  training  o^  good  minds,  con- 
secrated intelligences,  by  our  institutions 
of  learning,  is  the  only  safe  kind  of  educa- 
tion.    Otherwise  the  refining  of  intellect 
may  be  only  the  whetting  of  instruments 
whose  sharpened  edges   cut  the  cords   of 
social  security,  civil  order,  and  real  pros- 
perity.    So  it  was  a  safe  and  providential 
path,  though  a  toilsome  one,  that  brought 
Frederick  to  the  State  University  of  Wis- 
consin for  his  collegiate  study  and  disci- 
pline.    Madison,  the  capital  of  Wisconsin 
and   the   seat  of  the  University,  is  only 
twenty  miles  from  "  Cedar  Bluffs."     And 
this  beautiful  town,  with  the  Capitol  crown- 
ing one  of  its  summits  and  the  University 
buildinofs  another,  was  the  Mecca  for  the 
hopes  and  ambitions  of  us  who  w^ere  eager 
and  somewhat    restless    boys,   as  we   ap- 
proached the  age  when   young  men  com- 
monly enter  college.     It  is  very  natural 
for    sons   to  wish    to    graduate  from   the 
institution    where    their   fathers    received 
their    diplomas.     We    became    fascinated 
by  the  stories  father  had  told  us  of  his  col- 
legiate years  at  Harvard.     The  very  name 
of  Cambridge  was  poetry  to  us  who   had 


24     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

never  even  seen  its  ancient  University,  its 
venerable  and  historic  mansions  and  trees, 
and  were  living  a  thousand  miles  west  of 
the  Washington  Elm.  By  no  possibility 
could  it  be  that  any  of  us  "should  be  grad- 
uated from  Harvard  University.  If  the 
simpler  standard  of  living  which  prevailed 
there  in  father's  time —  1820  to  1824  — 
had  been  maintained  till  the  last  quarter 
of  the  century,  it  might  not  have  been  to 
us  so  impossible  to  follow  in  the  paternal 
footsteps  for  our  degrees  in  arts.  But 
simplicity,  economy,  "plain  living,"  it  is 
feared,  are  not  elected  as  popular  courses 
by  the  majority  of  Cambridge  students 
to-day.  Would  that  this  University  of 
magnificent  resources  could  only  command 
that  extravagance,  efl'eminating  luxury, 
unintellio:ent  and  immoral  notions  of  the 
meaning  of  a  college  life,  should  have  no 
admittance  to  its  great  opportunities. 

Frederick's  college  years  fell  within  the 
early  administration  of  President  John 
Bascom,  who  for  many  years  guided  the 
interests  of  the  University  with  a  strong 
hand,  upon  broad,  intelligent  plans.  This 
man  impressed  himself  upon  the  students 


EDUCATION.  25 

who  came  under  his  teaching  in  a  way 
that  tells  strongly  among  the  moulding  in- 
fluences of  college  life.  His  own  methods 
of  thought  were  strong,  logical,  command- 
ing. His  st3de  may  have  lacked  in  the 
polish  of  the  finest  rhetorical  art;  but  the 
ru2:£fed  earnestness  of  his  thinkino^  made 
mere  ornament  seem  superfluous.  This 
type  of  man  suited  the  taste  and  fibre  of 
Frederick's  mind  exactly.  He  was  too 
earnest  himself  in  his  search  after  wisdom 
to  be  very  tolerant  of  any  teacher  who 
could  not  go  straight  to  the  point,  and 
hold  steadfastly  to  the  work  of  unfolding 
the  truth  —  the  only  proper  function  of 
philosophy  and  its  expounders.  Dr.  Bas- 
com  was  positive,  serious,  manly.  Such  a 
character  met  a  cordial,  receptive  student 
in  Frederick.  While  he  would  have  been 
glad  if  the  chief  oflScer  of  the  University 
could  have  had  more  warmth  and  sympa- 
thy in  his  nature,  yet  even  this  desidera- 
tum was  easily  overlooked  in  view  of  his 
sturdy  character  and  robust  intelligence. 
Many  a  grateful  word  of  remembrance 
came  from  this  appreciative  learner  in 
after  years  ;  for  he  had  been  helped  into 


26     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

the  use  of  his  own  mental  powers  by  this 
counsellor  and  guide.  He  had  been 
started  upon  paths  of  intellectual  life 
w4iich  proved  over  and  over  again  to  be 
"paths  of  pleasantness  and  peace."  An- 
other name  nmst  be  alluded  to  in  this 
connection,  — that  of  Prof.  S.  H.  Carpen- 
ter ;  for,  next  to  the  President,  this  man 
seemed  to  exercise  the  most  controlling 
influence  over  Frederick's  developing 
powers.  He,  too,  has  passed  into  the 
realities  of  the  other  world,  having  fin- 
ished, too  soon,  it  seemed  to  his  friends, 
his  earthly  labors.  He  was  also  a  man  of 
masterly  strength.  Downright,  clear, 
positive  in  his  thinking,  he  w^as  a  pillar 
of  strength  in  the  University  faculty.  He 
responded  to  Frederick's  admiration  for 
him  by  a  personal  friendliness  that  was  a 
great  blessing.  His  hospital)le  home  was 
thrown  open,  and  Frederick  enjoyed  fre- 
quent calls  upon  the  honored  Professor, 
where  in  the  unreserve  and  intimacy  of 
the  home  atmosphere,  teacher  and  learner 
could  pass  for  a  time  the  limitations  of  the 
class-room,  and  the  pupil  could  learn  from 
the  master  as  was  not  possible  by  conveU' 


EDUCATION.  27 

tional  methods.     Prof.  Carpenter   was    a 
great  help  to  Frederick  in   the  develop- 
ment of  his  forensic  powers.     He  saw  the 
possibilities  of  his  pupil,  and  while  spar- 
ing  no   needed    criticism,    he  also   gave, 
with  his  criticisms,  an  abundant   interest 
and  sympathy.     During  the  last  year  of 
his    college    course,    Frederick   began    to 
preach  an  occasional  sermon.     Prof.  Car- 
penter  would   take  pains  to  attend  upon 
these  efforts  of  the  student-preacher,  and, 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  father,  counsel, 
correct,  and  encourage.     The  last  time  I 
saw  these  two  together  was  at  Frederick's 
graduation  exercises,  held  in  the  Assem- 
bly   Chamber   in    Madison.      Frederick's 
part  was  an  "oration,  into  which  he  threw 
himself  with  much  force,    delivering   his 
thoughts    with    fluency   and    ease.     Just 
below  the  platform,  a  little  one  side  of  the 
crowded  audience,  stood  this  faithful  Pro- 
fessor, watching,  with    intensest    interest 
evident  in  his  earnest  face  and  moistened 
eyes,  every  gesture  and  movement  of  the 
young  orator.     I  cannot  forget  how  deeply 
moved    I    was    bv    this    evidence    of    the 
almost   ideal    relation   which    existed   be- 


28     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

tween  teacher  and  scholar.  It  was  easy 
to  understand  why  it  was  that  Frederick 
held  him  in  most  steadfast  and  affectionate 
remembrance.  Both  have  entered  upon  a 
renewed  companionship  in  the  region  of 
unclouded  light,  "  and  their  works  do  fol- 
low them." 

Frederick's  college  work  was  both  helped 
and  hindered  by  the  necessity  that  was 
upon  bim  of  pajang  his  own  way.  It 
occurred  that  for  the  larger  part  of  the 
period  of  his  college  course,  our  brother- 
in-law,  Rev.  Samuel  Fallows,  D.D.,  now 
Bishop  in  the  Reformed  Episcopal  Church, 
was  State  Superintendent  of  Schools  of 
Wisconsin,  and  resided  at  the  capital. 
Frederick  was  not  only  invited  to  make 
his  home  with  his  sister's  family,  but  Dr. 
Fallows  also  gave  him  remunerative  em- 
ployment as  clerk  in  his  office  to  do  cer- 
tain work  that  could  be  accomplished  at 
odd  hours  of  each  day.  These  opportuni- 
ties were  a  great  blessing  in  giving  him  a 
delightful  home,  and  means  of  self-support. 
The  only  drawback  was  a  constant  tempta- 
tion to  reduce  college  work  to  the  mini- 
mum.    He  could  not  devote  himself  with 


EDUCATION.  29 

all  his  vigor  to  study  when  the  daily  cleri- 
cal tasks  must  be  accomplished.    Neverthe- 
less, he  achieved  good  success  in  the  round 
of  his   college  work,  and  came  off  with 
credit  at  graduation.     The  circumstances 
just  mentioned  account  for  his  seeing  little 
of  the  social  side  of  college  life,  and  en- 
gaging scarcely  at  all  in   college  sports. 
But  when  the  evils  of  college   social  life 
and  college  games  are  taken  into  account, 
it  is  not  certain  that  he  lost  much  that  was 
of  real' value  in  being  excluded  from  both 
these  means  of  alleged  recreation.     Dor- 
mitory  institutions    have    serious    disad- 
vantages.     The    "barracks    system"    of 
herding  students  together,  unless  they  are 
of  unusually  good  breeding  and  self-con- 
trol, is  very  liable  to  be  the  condition  for 
pernicious  influences  to  thrive.     Boorish- 
ness  in  manners,  coarseness  in  language 
and    bearing  are   among   the   lesser  evils 
that  will  creep  in  to  harm  boys  who  are 
massed  together  without  the  restraints  and 
refinements    of    family    life.     Other    and 
greater  danfijers  to  moral  life  lurk  in  the 
dormitory  system  :  idling,  gossiping,  gam- 
bling, and  even  debauchery  and  profligacy 


30     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

are  far  more  liable  to  flourish  where  the 
student  community  is  thrown  together  than 
where  it  is  broken  into  and  distributed 
among  the  healthful  and  restraining  home- 
life  of  a  college  town. 

Frederick's  college  years  were  to  him 
what  they  are  to  thousands  of  young  men 
in  the  same  period,  determinative  for  his 
future  career.  It  is  difficult  to  conjecture 
what  mioht  have  been  the  direction  of  his 
path  in  subsequent  life  had  he  lived 
through  those  years  without  the  inspira- 
tion of  that  delightful  home  of  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Fallows.  A  family  life  that*  is 
mellow  and  sweet  with  pure  affection, 
enlivened  and  made  buoyant  by  the  happy 
voices  of  children,  in  which  a  family  altar 
is  the  central,  binding  power  that  holds, 
sweetens,  and  sanctities  the  whole  domestic 
realm  —  such  a  life  into  which  a  student 
may  enter  and  live  his  leisure  moments 
will  give  him  the  pure  recreation  and 
stimulus  that  even  the  best  social  condi- 
tions of  a  college  community  cannot 
match.  It  must  be  confessed  that  Fred- 
erick was  unusually  blessed  in  having 
admittance  to  so  rare  a  home,  in  which 


EDUCATION.  31 

he  was  not  simply  admitted  as  a  boarder, 
but  welcomed  and  cherished  as  a  brother 
and  uncle.  One  of  the  most  effective 
forces  in  developing  Frederick's  powers 
was  a  college  debating  society,  of  which 
he  w^as  one  of  the  founders.  The  two 
older  societies,  the  Athentvan  and  the 
Hesperian,  had,  from  the  early  days  of 
the  University  itself,  been  the  only  stu- 
dents' organizations  for  intellectual  pas- 
time and  forensic  improvement.  A  sharp 
rivalry  had  continued  between  these  two 
societies,  and  one  or  the  other  gathered 
in,  each  opening  year,  such  students  as 
cared  to  unite  Avith  them  —  and  each  was 
well  sustained,  each  did  excellent  work. 
Essays,  debates,  exercise  in  parliamentary 
law,  orations  and  poems,  of  the  usual 
calibre  and  range  among  students,  were 
the  chief  elements  of  the  programmes 
which  were  prepared  for  each  Friday 
evening's  session.  Secret  societies  had 
not  yet  found  patronage  at  our  University. 
And  it  seems  doubtful  to  us  who  belong 
to  the  earlier  period  of  the  University's 
history  whether  the  later  secret  societies 
do  better  work  or  are,   on  the  whole,  a 


32     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

greater  help  either  to  the  student  or  to 
the  institution  itself,  than  were  the  open 
societies  which  for  a  quarter  of  a  century 
or  more  were  such  a  valuable  auxiliary  to 
the  prescribed  work  of  the  College. 

At  Frederick's  time  the  number  of  stu- 
dents had  so  enlarged  that  a  third  society 
seemed  to  be  a  necessity.  He  was  one  of 
those  who  felt  the  need,  and  he  helped  to 
organize  a  new  body,  which  was  to  serve 
the  same  general  purpose  for  forensic, 
social,  and  recreative  ends  as  the  two 
older  organizations.  The  chief  element 
of  power,  as  an  educating  force,  that  a 
debating  society  carries,  is  the  necessity 
it  puts  upon  its  members  of  uttering  their 
own  thought.  Study  and  the  exercises  of 
the  college  class-room  do  not,  by  the  very 
nature  of  the  case,  admit  of  very  much  of 
giving  out  from  the  student's  own  re- 
sources. He  is  gathering.  He  is  at  the 
feet  of  his  masters,  learning.  He  is  in 
the  attitude  of  a  listener  for  the  most 
part;  and  his  special  and  imperative  task 
is  to  remember  and  hold  fast.  But  the 
other  side  of  the  educational  process  is  of 
vast  importance,  if  the  student  is  to  be 


EDUCATION.  33 

anythinir  more  than  a  reservoir  of  others 
men's  wisdom.  He  ou2:ht  to  ))e  constant 
and  strenuous  in  the  exercise  of  shaping 
and  utterinsf,  throui^h  the  medium  of  his 
own  faculties,  the  ideas  which  have  en- 
tered into  his  mind  :  for  it  is  less  by  the 
entrance  into  his  mind  of  the  thous^ht  of 
others  than  by  the  going  forth  of  his  own 
ideas  through  pen  and  voice,  that  the  real 
building  up  of  mental  fibre  will  take  place. 
It  has  been  already  said  that  Frederick 
had  constructive  2:ifts.  He  was  fond  of 
startino^  somethino-  new,  that  should  bear 
his  own  stamp,  and  not  rest  upon  another's 
foundations.  This  trait  was  constantly 
reappearing  in  all  that  he  did.  Mere  rep- 
etitiousness  in  anythins:  was  to  him  intol- 
erable.  He  made  a  violin  while  on  the 
farm  ;  and  though  it  was  somewhat  crude 
in  comparison  with  a  cvemona^  and  its 
tones  not  perhaps  of  finest  timbre^  yet 
to  him  it  was  belter  than  the  best,  for  it 
was  his  own  ingenious,  though  boyish, 
workmanship. 

The  zeal  with  which  he  entered  upon 
the  work  of  helping  into  existence  this 
new    debating    society    sprung   from    this 


34  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

same  oenius  he  had  for  orijrinal  work. 
He  was  also,  just  then,  finding  out  that 
he  had  powers  of  utterance  which  he  took 
delight  in  exercising.  His  large,  expres- 
sive eyes  indicated  that  language  came 
readily  at  his  command  when  there  was  a 
thought  to  be  uttered.  His  voice  was 
natural,  flexible,  rich,  and  full.  By  na- 
ture he  was  gifted  with  powers  for  public 
speech,  and  he  was  fast  discovering,  by 
means  of  his  college  relations,  and  espe- 
cially through  this  society  stimulus,  that 
he  was  endowed  for  a  public  teacher. 

He  was  oraduated  in  June,  1875  ;  but 
feeling  that  his  course  had  not  been  as 
complete  as  he  wished,  he  decided  to 
accept  an  offer  from  President  Bascom  to 
become  tutor  of  history  and  rhetoric  in 
the  University,  and  to  continue  with  post- 
graduate work  in  the  classics  at  the  same 
time.  This  double  work  he  kept  up  for 
two  years.  During  the  winter  of  1876- 
77  he  also  undertook  additional  work  at 
the  Marshall  Academv,  going  out  twice  a 
week  from  IMadison  to  tutor  some  classes 
of  young  men  —  Norwegians  —  in  Eng- 
lish,   Latin,    and    Greek   elements.     Our 


EDUCATION. 


85 


brother  Theodore  writes  thus  his  remem- 
brance of  Frederick's  experience  in  this 
work  :  — 

"  Some  of  these  young  men  could  speak 
and  read  a  little  English ;  some  could  do 
neither.     But   they    were    all    bright  and 
zealous  workers,  and  Fred  was  very  much 
interested  in  them.     They  had  great  rev- 
erence for  him,  and  never  forgot  the  few 
weeks  he  spent  with  them.     Fred  made  a 
study  of  each  of  these  young  men,  and  I 
think  he  never  came  home  after  a  session 
with  them  without  some  account,  laugh- 
able or  pathetic,  to  give   us  of  his  after- 
noon's experiences.     When  his  term's  ser- 
vice closed,  they  had  a  group  photograph 
taken  of  their    whole    number,   and  pre- 
sented it  framed  to  their  honored  teacher, 
which   Fred    has    always    carefully  cher- 
ished." 

Frederick  used  to  tell  an  amusing  story 
of  one  of  these  young  fellows,  which 
shows  also  how  he  had  won  the  confidence 
of  his  pupils.  He  noticed,  at  one  time, 
that  this  student  was  looking  very  de- 
jected, and  his  work  was  poorly  done. 
After  repeated  inquiries  as  to  the  cause  of 


36  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

the  trouble,  the  young  man  at  last,  in 
great  secrecy  and  confidence,  explained, 
in  what  he  thought  was  idiomatic  English, 
that  the  cause  of  his  melat)choly  state  was 
that  "  his  girl  had  hacked  up  on  him,''  — 
an  attempt,  evidently,  to  use  the  slang 
phrase,  "  had  gone  back  on  him." 

Those  who  watched  Frederick  through 
those  important  years  of  student-life,  from 
1871  to  1877,  saw  a  steady  growth  of  manly 
life.  Eneroies  that  seemed  restless  until 
allowed  to  do  their  very  utmost  carried  him 
along  through  his  course  with  spirit  and 
enthusiasm.  A  soul  full  of  vigor  and 
promise  now  stands  at  the  threshold  of 
active  life,  looking  eagerly  forward. 


CHAPTER  III. 

VOCATION. 

The  Christian  ministry  Is  the  largest  field  for  the 
crrowth  of  a  human  soul  that  this  world  oflers.  In 
\t  he  who  is  faithful  must  go  on  learning  more  and 
more  forever.  His  growth  in  learning  is  all  bound 
up  with  his  growth  in  character.  His  true  growth 
is  not  necessarily  a  change  of  views.  It  is  a  change 
of  view.    It  is  not  revolution.     It  is  progress. 

Phillips  Brooks. 

Allusion  has  been  made  to  the  fact  that 
my  brother  began  to  preach  before  his  work 
at  the  University  closed.     But  it  was  not 
until  after  much  heart-searching  and  men- 
tal conflict  that  he  determined  to  devote 
himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.     It  was 
not  an  unusual  experience  through  which 
he  passed.     A  young  man  may  have  very 
decided  capabilities  for  any  one  of  the  pro- 
fessions, and  yet  come  but  slowly  to  the  full 
consciousness  of  possessing  such  powers 
and  to  the    final  volition  which  bends  all 
future    life    to   the    demands    of    what  is 


38     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

known  as  his  "  vocation."  So  it  was  with 
him.  He  found  out  by  college  experi- 
ences, somewhat  early,  that  he  had  tastes 
and  abilities  w^hich  might  easily  have  an 
ample  field  in  the  work  of  the  ministry. 
But  it  was  not  at  first  clear  to  his  mind 
that  the  legal  profession  would  not  be 
more  congenial,  on  the  whole.  He  was 
attracted  by  some  of  the  noble  ranges  of 
legal  study  and  practice.  He  loved  the 
arena  of  human  rights  where  law  finds  its 
sway.  He  was  attracted  by  the  contests 
which  must  constantly  engage  the  mind  of 
the  attorney  ;  for  the  quality  of  his  nature 
was  rather  pleased  than  distressed  by  prob- 
lems requiring  struggle  —  especially  when 
it  was  right  against  wrong,  truth  against 
error.  A  knightly  temper  was  hidden 
among  the  tender  and  sensitive  elements 
of  his  soul. 

The  mental  debate  was  for  a  series  of 
months,  therefore,  between  the  legal  pro- 
fession and  the  Christian  ministry.  A 
business  life  also  suggested  itself  to  him 
at  times.  His  fondness  for  a  stirring, 
active  life  among  men  made  him  feel 
occasionally  that  he  would  be  glad  to  enter 


VOCATION.  39 

the  arena  of  trade,  and  win  from  the  sharp 
rivah'ies  of  the  market,  means  for  a  hirge 
and  beneficent  career.    I  am  not  sure  from 
anything  he  ever  said,  but  have  more  than 
once  suspected  that  the  fact  that  having  a 
father,  an  older  brother,  and  a  brother-in- 
law  who   were  ministers,   rather  repelled 
from  than  attracted  him  toward  the  same 
profession.     He  was   naturally  averse   to 
conshdering   himself  jjredestined    to    any- 
thing.    To  enter  the  ministry  from  reasons 
of  heredity  or  of  environment  would  be 
the  very  last  possibility  with  him.     His 
original  force,    his   love    of    independent 
activity,  his  restlessness  under  a  stereo- 
typed and  mechanical  mode  of  life  all  com- 
bined to  make  us  who  were  interested  in 
his  final  decision  incline  often  to  think  he 
would  not  be  a  minister.     Yet,  he  wisely 
took  abundant  time  to  weigh  all  consider- 
ations.    His  counsellors  did   not  attempt 
to  urge  him  beyond  his  own  convictions. 
His  most  intimate  advisers  felt  that  if  he 
was  to  enter  upon  the  sacred  office  of  the 
preacher  he  could  not  be  too  well  grounded 
in  solid,  personal  conviction.     Gradually 
the  attractiveness  of  the  ministry  gained 


40     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

ground  with  the  debating  mind.  He 
steadily  moved  towards  the  path  which 
his  natural  gifts,  his  regenerated  moral 
nature,  and  his  own  convictions  and  tastes, 
as  w^ell  as  that  Providence  who  rules  over 
human  destinies  through  these  constitu- 
tional aptitudes,  evidently  marked  out  for 
him  to  tread. 

His  difficulties  in  regard  to  an  ecclesias- 
tical home  must  be  mentioned  just  here  ; 
for  these  constituted  one  element,  at  least, 
in  the  problem  of  deciding  upon  his  life- 
work.  The  conditions  in  w^hich  his  reli- 
gious life  had  dawned  and  so  far  developed 
were  filled  by  the  ministrations  and  ordi- 
nances of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
Its  Sunday  school,  class-meetings,  and 
sacraments  were  the  general  means  by 
which  he  had  been  led  into  an  open  dec- 
laration of  his  faith  before  the  world,  a 
faith  that  no  doubt  germinated  in  those 
solitary  and  impressive  experiences  already 
narrated  ;  and  to  a  Methodist  minister  — 
Rev.  Dr.  Huntley,  afterwards  president 
of  Lawrence  University  at  Appleton,  Wis- 
consin—  Frederick  ever  afterwards  felt 
himself  indebted  for  giving  him  at  Madi- 


VOCATION.  41 

son,  during  the  last  few  months  of  his 
college  course,  the  final  impulse  which 
carried  him  into  the  ministry.  Dr.  Hunt- 
ley was  a  man  after  Frederick's  own  heart 
in  some  respects  —  genial,  magnetic,  ear- 
nest. He  was  pastor  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  in  Madison  at  this  time, 
and  seemed  to  take  special  interest  in 
Frederick,  who  was  the  teacher  of  a  large 
Bible-class  in  his  Sunday  school.  The  pas- 
tor was  soon  let  into  some  of  the  mental 
conflicts  that  were  going  on  in  his  par- 
ishioner's life  ;  and  with  his  natural  vigor 
and  earnestness  he  urged  Frederick  to 
take  upon  himself  at  once  the  work  of 
the  ministry.  It  was  not  long  before  he 
had  the  young  licentiate  preaching  in  his 
pulpit. 

Frederick  was  almost  unconsciously 
drawn,  by  the  eagerness  and  momentum  of 
his  pastor's  bearing  toward  him,  into  the 
actual  work  of  preaching.  Thus  the  man 
and  the  occasions  seem  to  have  been  sup- 
plied at  the  opportune  moment ;  and  prac- 
tical tests  of  his  own  powers  were  the  final 
weisjhts  in  the  l)alance  which  convinced 
him  that  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  should 


42  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

be  his  vocation.  He  was  more  sure,  how- 
ever, of  his  mission  to  preach  than  he  was 
that  he  was  altogether  fitted  to  work  easily 
and  contentedly  in  the  mechanism  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  Her  doc- 
trines were  acceptable  to  him.  Her  joy- 
ous, generous,  aggressive  temper  suited 
his  nature.  Not  in  these  deeper  essentials 
did  he  feel  himself  at  all  in  antipathetic 
relation  to  the  church  in  which  he  had 
been  nurtured.  It  was  rather  with  some 
features  of  church  polity  that  ho  could  not 
feel  himself  in  fullest  sympathy.  So  that 
he  took  no  orders  as  a  minister  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  while  he 
loved  its  worship,  and  labored  earnestly 
for  the  good  of  souls  as  he  had  opportu- 
nity. Thus,  no  sooner  was  the  important 
decision  made  as  to  what  he  should  do, 
than  another,  and,  as  it  proved,  a  long 
debate,  began  in  his  mind  as  to  where 
he  should  labor.  The  old  sharpness  of 
boundary  lines  between  the  denominations 
known  as  evangelical  was  already  disap- 
pearing long  before  1875.  The  general 
good  feeling  and  fraternity  between  the 
great  bodies  of  American    Christian   life 


VOCATION.  43 

make  it  difficult  for  one  who  has  no  special 
love  for  any  ecclesiastical  forms  or  polity 
to  decide  upon  his  proper  place.  Freder- 
ick had  no  decided  tastes  for  the  things  in 
religious  organization  which  are  only  mat- 
ters of  taste.  His  Puritanism  appeared, 
perhaps,  in  his  love  for  the  simple  and  less 
ornate  methods  of  church  worship  ;  yet  no 
approach  to  severe  and  ascetic  notions 
could  be  ascribed  to  him.  He  was  too 
well  equipped  in  aesthetic  taste  to  err  on 
the  side  of  modern  iconoclasm,  and  too 
earnest  in  spiritual  life  to  be  a  stickler 
for  the  non-essentials  of  rights  and  cere- 
monies of  an}'  kind.  The  itinerancy  of 
Methodism  Avas  one  element,  and  the 
authority  vested  in  the  church  officiary 
above  the  pastoral  office  another,  to  wiiich 
he  was  quite  decidedly  opposed ;  and  his 
opposition  to  these  characteristics  of 
church  polity  w^as  not  a  superficial  preju- 
dice, but  rather  sprung  from  his  own  con- 
stitutional, personal  way  of  looking  at 
reliiT^ious  life  and  work.  Over  ag^ainst  a 
necessity  of  changing  pastoral  relations  at 
the  end  of  a  fixed  term  there  were  the 
inherent  qualities  in  himself  which  led  him 


44     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

to  strike  root  in  the  community  where  he 
tarried  long; — a  wide  acquaintanceship, 
resulting  from  his  easy  intercourse  with 
the  people,  his  fondness  for  laying  plans, 
his  intense  interest  in  children  and  young 
people,  and  his  love  for  fostering  and  help- 
mg  them  on, — such  qualities  as  these 
made  him  look  with  distaste  upon  a  system 
in  which  a  preacher  must  cut  all  pastoral 
relations  once  in  three  years,  if  not  oftener. 
Then,  a  still  further  reason  for  feeling  no 
affiliation  for  the  polity  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  was  that  the  system 
must  be  worked  by  officers  whose  author- 
ity over  the  pastorate  is  necessarily  to  be 
recoirnized  and  felt.  Frederick's  view  of 
the  pastoral  function  was  that  the  pastor 
should  be  supreme  in  his  place.  His  love 
of  independent  action  lay  at  the  basis  of 
this.  He  had  something  of  the  Pauline 
love  for  building  upon  no  other  man's 
foundation,  but  constructing  his  work,  from 
base  to  cap-stone,  according  to  his  own 
plans,  without  dictation  or  limitations  from 
superior  powers.  These  were  the  main 
reasons,  hardly  formulated  to  himself  even, 
and  rarely  hinted  at  to  any  other,  —  and 


VOCATION.  45 

yet  the  real  determinins:  causes  of  his  not 
taking  orders  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church. 

In  the  year  1875  Bishop  Cummins  be- 
jran  the  movement  which  resulted  in  the 
organization  of  the  Keformed  Episcopal 
Church.  Ritualistic  tendencies  in  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church  had  moved 
many  earnest  souls  within  its  communion 
to  lift  up  their  voices  of  warning  against 
the  dansfer  which  menaced  from  the  for- 
malism,  exclusiveness,  and  even  arrogant 
assumptions  of  the  High  Church  Episco- 
palians. But  notwithstanding  protests  and 
expostulations,  ritualism  was  steadily  gain- 
inof  ground  as^ainst  Low  Church  views  : 
at  least  some  of  the  Low  Churchmen 
thought  they  saw  little  prospect  that  their 
own  conceptions  of  E[)iscopalianism,  in 
doctrine  and  polity,  would  ever  stem  the 
increasing  tide  setting  against  them.  This 
same  body  of  men  in  the  Episcopalian  com- 
munion were  also  aware  that  in  other  de- 
nominations there  were  ministers  and  lay- 
men who  had  decided  lonoincjs  for  a  form  of 
worship  that  involved  a  liberal  though 
not  exclusive  use  of  a  liturgical  service. 


46     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

Bishop  Cummins  and  those  who  acted  with 
him  were  quite  convinced  that  the  oppor- 
tune moment  had  come  for  an  ecclesiastical 
organization  to  be  formed  which  should 
attract  to  itself  Christians,  clerical  and 
lay,  from  both  sides — man3^Low  Church- 
men of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  body, 
and  those  inclined  to  a  modified  Episco- 
palianism  of  the  large  denominations.  In 
docti'ine,  the  principal  reformations  were 
to  be  the  renunciation  of  the  doo:ma  of 
Apostolical  Succession,  and  sacramentarian 
notions  of  Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper  ; 
m  polity,  the  ministry  was  to  be  under 
Episcopal  supervision,  but  the  Bishop's 
office  was  not  to  be  considered  a  third 
order,  and  the  entire  clergy  was  to  be  in 
fraternal  relations  with  ministers  of  other 
denominations.  The  Prayer  Book,  also 
modified  in  some  particulars,  was  to  aid 
and  not  completely  dominate  the  church 
service. 

Into  this  movement  Dr.  Fallows  threw 
himself  with  all  the  enthusiasm  and  elo- 
quence for  which  he  was  already  dis- 
tinguished in  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church;  and  was,  in   1876,  elected  as  one 


VOCATION.  47 

of  the  Bishops  of  the  Reformed  Episco- 
pal Church.  Frederick's  intimate  relation 
to  Dr.  Fallows,  his  own  searching  for  a 
congenial  church  home,  and  his  sympathy 
with  some  of  the  distinctive  ideas  of  this 
new  organization,  were  all  favorable  con- 
ditions to  bring  him  to  a  personal  alliance 
with  the  young  denomination.  He  became 
rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation  in 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  in  May,  1878,  after  hav- 
ing spent  the  previous  winter  at  the  School 
of  Theology,  Boston  University,  and  was 
ordained  deacon  in  May,  1879,  and  presby- 
ter ih  October,  1886. 

There  will  be  some  further  allusions  to 
his  ecclesiastical  relations  later  on  in  this 
story  of  his  life.  But  it  is  only  necessary 
here  to  affirm  what  is  certainly  true  of  him 
wherever  he  labored,  that  the  body  of 
spiritual  life  was  to  him  of  far  greater 
value  than  ecclesiastical  raiment.  He  put 
his  whole  weight,  force,  and  faith  upon 
the  Gospel  of  Christ.  He  loved  to  preach 
the  Glad  Tidings,  and  rejoiced  to  be  able 
to  lead  immortal  souls  into  peace  and  truth. 
Where  this  work  was  done,  or  by  what 
special  forms,  seemed  to  be   an  insignifi- 


48  FREDERICK    SARGENT    HUNTINGTON. 

cant  matter  in  his  esteem.  With  or  with- 
out a  surplice,  by  printed  or  by  extempo- 
raneous prayer,  in  country  school-house,  vil- 
lage chapel,  or  city  church,  —  it  mattered 
little  to  him  as  to  the  material  surround- 
ings. Metropolitan  congregations  were 
no  more  deeply  moved  by  his  tender,  stir- 
ring appeals  than  the  gatherings  in  the 
humble  country  sanctuary,  to  which  he 
poured  out,  with  equal  powder  and  tender- 
ness, the  wealth  of  his  spiritual  treasures. 
Fie  never  doubted  his  vocation  after  he 
finally  determined,  by  God's  grace,  to  be 
a  minister  of  righteousness.  His  one  aim 
was  to  be  a  faithful  minister  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  For  this  he  read,  studied, 
travelled.  If  he  relaxed  in  summer  heat, 
it  w^as  only  to  gather  strength  to  preach. 
If  he  threw  off  the  burdens  and  reserve 
of  his  office,  now"  and  then,  it  was  but  to 
refresh  the  springs  of  life  in  order  to  be 
more  earnest  and  effective  in  his  soul-win- 
nins:  work.  "This  one  thing  I  do,"  was 
the  watchw'ord  of  his  life  ;  and  no  one 
was  a  more  devoted  learner  of  the  mean- 
ing of  the  great  apostle's  single-minded 
motto  than  this  faithful  minister  of  Christ. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

CITY   MINISTKY. 

And  I  was  -with  yon  in  weakness,  and  in  fear,  and 
in  much  trembling.  And  my  speech  and  my  preach- 
ing was  not  with  enticing  words  of  man's  wisdom, 
bnt  in  demonstration  of  the  Spirit,  and  of  power; 
that  your  faith  should  not  stand  in  the  wisdom  of 
men,  but  in  the  power  of  God.  —  St.  Paul. 

Frederick's  career  as  a  pastor  began  in 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  in  the  year  1878.  A 
city  parish  is  not,  perhaps,  the  ideal  con- 
dition for  a  young  man  to  enter  upon  the 
work  of  the  ministry  ;  and  yet,  it  depends 
hu'gely  upon  what  the  man  and  the  parish 
are  in  themselves.  Frederick  was  at  this 
time  twenty-six  years  of  age.  He  had 
already  tried  his  powers  by  the  occasional 
preaching  he  had  done  in  Madison,  Wis. 
He  had  spent  about  a  year  in  his  theolog- 
ical studies  in  Boston  University,  making 
his  home  with  his  older  brother,  who  was 
then  preaching  in  Caml)ridge,  Mass.  He 
had  therefore  a  small   stock  of  sermons, 


50     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

and,  what  was  far  better,  a  fund  of  ex- 
perience   both   in    personal  Christian   life 
and  in  preaching  the  Word,  which  enabled 
him  to   start  upon  a  pastorate  with  just 
enough  capital  to  keep  him  from  despair- 
ing in  the  presence  of  a  Brooklyn  congre- 
gation  and   two    sermons    a    week.     The 
Church  of  the   Incarnation   had  been  or- 
ganized  about  two   years,   and  had  been 
under    the    pastoral    care    of    Rev.    Wm. 
Eeed,  a  devoted  and   earnest  man.     Ex- 
Lieut. -Gov.  Stewart  L.  Woodford,  Henry 
B.  Turner,  Esq.,  J.  L.  Morgan,  Dr.  Ayres, 
and  other  men  of  weight  and  prominence 
were  members  of  this  society  ;  and,  though 
its  numbers  were  small,  yet  there  seemed 
to  be  the  promise,  in  this  vigorous  organi- 
zation,   of  growth    and   prosperity.     Not 
only  was  the  individual  society  young  and 
plastic,  but   the  denomination  itself  with 
which  it  was   connected  was  also  just  in 
the    enthusiasm  of  its    formative    period. 
So  that  the  case   was  far  different  for  a 
young  preacher  to  undertake  than  if  the 
society  bad   been   of   long  standing,   and 
therefore  of  less  flexible  character  under 
pastoral  labor.     Another  favoring  condi- 


CITY   MINISTRY.  51 

tion  which  was  attractive  to  Frederick 
was  that  Bishop  Fallows  and  his  family 
had  come  to  Brooklyn  to  live,  and  taken 
a  house  within  the  limits  of  this  new 
parish,  the  Bishop  having  been  appointed 
to  a  roving  commission  in  the  Reformed 
Episcopal  Church,  to  work  in  all  quarters 
for  the  upbuilding  of  the  new  denomina- 
tion. The  call  to  this  Brooklyn  church 
therefore  came  to  Frederick  with  so  many 
attractive  elements  that  after  some  de- 
liberation he  accepted,  and  began  his 
labors  in  May,  1878. 

Some  of  those  who  were  earnest  co- 
laborers  with  him  in  this  parish  have 
given  their  estimates  of  Frederick's  power, 
faithfulness,  and  success  ;  and  their  tributes 
are  embodied  in  this  chapter.  My  own 
knowledge  of  his  work  there  is  only  such 
as  came  by  occasional  glimpses  and  through 
the  reports  of  others.  It  was  no  small 
task  for  him  to  undertake  to  minister  to 
a  congregation  of  the  character  of  this 
one,  and  to  give  his  flock  two  fresh  ser- 
mons every  Sunday.  His  ideals  of  a 
sermon  were  always  high.  He  had  the 
right    conception    of    the    function    of    a 


52  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

sermon,  that  it  ought  to  be  the  means  of 
moving  men  in  conscience,  in  will-power, 
in  moral  convictions,  and  religious  desires. 
So  that  he  adopted  in  this  early  period  of 
his  ministry  a  style  suited  to  accomplis?h 
best  these  ends.  He  devoted  his  mornins^s 
to  earnest  reading  and  writing.  He  knew 
that  to  keep  up  a  fresh  and  effective  min- 
istry to  an  intelligent  congregation  he 
must  be  a  constant  student  of  the  Bible, 
and  of  the  best  books.  I  cannot  remem- 
ber that  Frederick  was  ever  tempted  to 
devote  much  time  to  novel-reading :  but 
he  generally  had  some  book  at  hand  in 
which  he  found  interest  and  delight,  of 
serious  character  and  nourishing  in  its  in- 
fluence. The  plan  which  many  clergy- 
men have  found  the  best,  was  his  —  to  read 
diligently  and  widely  during  the  early 
part  of  the  week,  and  to  do  most  of  his 
sermon-writing  the  latter  part.  He  rarely 
wrote  out  a  sermon  in  full ;  but  preferred 
to  write  the  main  portions  quite  carefully, 
and  leave  illustrative  material  and  the 
practical  appeals  to  be  delivered  in  ex- 
temporaneous form.  This  varied  style  of 
discourse  gave  him  best  satisfaction,  and 


CITY    MINISTRY.  53 

enabled  him  also  to  suit  all  tastes  in  his 
congregation,  more  nearly.  He  was  singu- 
larly fortunate  also  in  having  friendly  in- 
tercourse with  such  princes  in  pulpit 
ability  as  Dr.  Richard  S.  Storrs  and  Dr. 
Joseph  T.  Duryea.  He  used  to  see  these 
men  occasionally  in  their  own  libraries ; 
and  to  the  young  preacher  it  was  a  great 
stimulus  and  comfort  to  talk  of  ministerial 
interests  with  such  men  as  these,  who  were 
so  rich  in  experience  and  so  helpful  in 
suggestion. 

Gen.  Woodford,  whose  home  was  al- 
ways most  delightful  and  hospitable,  writes 
the  following  appreciative  testimonial  to 
the  life  and  work  of  Frederick  in  the 
Brooklyn  parish  :  — 

"  You  ask  me  to  add  a  few  words  as  to 
your  brother's  work  in  the  Reformed 
Episcopal  Church  of  the  Incarnation  in 
Brooklyn,  where  he  was  for  some  time 
pastor.  My  flimily  attended  that  church 
during  his  entire  ministry  there ;  we 
formed  a  friendship  with  him  that  is  still 
one  of  our  most  cherished  memories,  and 
it  is  a  privilege  to  add  this  affectionate 
tribute  to  his  service  and  worth. 


54     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 


«  '\r. 


Your  brother  came  to  us  from  his 
studies  at  Boston,  and  ours  was  his  first 
parish.  He  had  chosen  his  work  from  an 
honest  sense  of  duty.  He  cared  very 
little  for  denominational  difierences,  but 
as  much  as  any  man  I  have  ever  known 
for  Christ  and  the  Church  Catholic.  His 
especial  sympathy  was  with  young  men, 
and  he  quickly  gained  a  lasting  and  sure 
influence  over  all  the  young  people  in  the 
parish.  The  church  was  united,  earnest, 
and  industrious  under  his  teaching  and 
leadership.  For,  although  he  was  singu- 
larly modest,  quiet,  and  even  retiring  in 
manner,  he  was  still  a  leader  who  led  by 
his  o:entle  foro^etfulness  of  self  and  his 
unfaltering  fidelity  to  what  he  believed 
right.  When  he  felt  compelled  to  leave 
us  that  he  might  complete  his  studies  in 
Germany,  it  was  like  breaking  up  a  home 
in  which  the  elder  people  loved  him  as  a 
son,  and  the  young  folk  as  a  brother, 
while  all  honored  him  as  a  faithful  pastor 
and  wise  guide. 

"His  sermons  w^ere  direct,  earnest,  hon- 
est, hopeful  and  helpful.  He  never  preached 
for  efiect,  never  talked  merely  to  be  heard, 


CITY   MINISTRY.  55 

but  always  uttered  a  message  that  cheered 
and  strengthened  some  one  for  a  better 
and  more  manl}^  life.  1  never  heard  him 
preach  a  discouraging  or  useless  sermon. 

"  He  went  in  and  out  among  his  people, 
a  man  among  men.  He  had  full  sympathy 
with  their  lives  and  daily  cares  and  joys 
and  work ;  and  yet  he  seemed  to  me 
always  to  be  somewhat  apart  from  us  and 
to  be  strangely  and  simply  walking  with 
God. 

"I  have  not  given  any  data  or  details  of 
his  parish  work  in  Brooklyn.  That  would 
be  merely  to  classify  the  data  of  a  parish 
register.  But  I  have  written  to  you  of 
him  as  he  lives  in  m.y  memory  —  now  that 
his  form  is  ashes,  and  his  life  is  like  a  tale 
that  is  told.  His  character  abides  and 
still  shapes  his  influence.  I  am  glad  that 
you  are  to  publish  his  last  message  to 
young  men,  for  it  must  be  that  his  words 
will  quicken,  strengthen,  and  help  those 
to  whom  being  dead,  he  yet  speaketh. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Stewart  L.  Woodford." 


56  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

Dr.  Ayres  has  also  added,  out  of  a  most 
affectionate  memory,  these  sincere  trib- 
utes :  — 

"  To  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  the  Rev. 
F.  S.  Huntinofton,  and  dwell  affection- 
ately on  his  virtues,  his  character,  and 
his  service  to  his  fellow-men,  is  a  pleasing 
task.  His  work  in  Brooklyn  was  char- 
acterized by  that  modesty  and  earnest  zeal 
that  marked  his  whole  career.  His  enthu- 
siasm and  love  for  the  work  to  which  he 
o^ave  his  life  was  of  a  sjenuine  order. 
Coming  to  his  first  charge,  the  Church 
of  the  Incarnation,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  he 
revived  the  interest  of  those  already  in 
the  church,  and  added  materially  to  the 
number  and  strength  of  the  congregation. 
His  interest  in  and  love  for  young  people 
made  him  very  popular  with  them,  and  he 
infused  new  strength  and  vitality  into  every 
branch  of  church  work.  A  friend,  writ- 
ing of  his  work  here,  says  :  '  A  new  impe- 
tus was  given  to  charitable  and  other  work  ; 
earnestness  and  zeal  were  shown  by  a  stead- 
ier attendance  upon  and  closer  attention  to 
church  duties.  A  spirit  of  good  fellow- 
ship held  the  people  in  its  fraternal  em- 


CITY  MINISTRY.  57 

l)race.      The    church    grew    apace,    and 
established  for  herself  a  name  and  place 
among  the  churches  of  Brooklyn  ;  and  a 
most  promising  and  hopeful  career  seemed 
opening  before  her.'     At  the  end  of  two 
years,  and    in   accordance  with    a    design 
formed  long  before  he  came  to  Brooklyn, 
Mr.    Huntington    resigned   the    pastorate 
and  went  to  Europe  to  pursue  a  course  of 
study   at    the    University  of    Bonn,  Ger- 
many.    This  was  a  sad  experience  for  the 
congregation,  and  clouded  the  bright  pros- 
pect   with   regrets    and    misgivings.      On 
his  return  from  Europe  he  assumed  the  pas- 
torate of  the  Reformed  Episcopal  Church 
of  the  Atonement,  and  his  woik  there  was 
pursued  with    great  earnestness  and  suc- 
cess.    Thousfh  havino-  charge  of  this  church 
but   a    short   time,  the    organization   was 
strengthened  by  his  foithful  ministry,  and 
he  departed  for  a  field  of  labor  where  he 
believed  his  efforts   woukl  be  of  greater 
avail,  and  redound  to  the  glory  of  God. 
Ever  unselfish,  he  forgot  self  for  the  ben- 
efit of  humanity  and  the  Master's  cause. 
His  was  a  noble  character,  and  the  world 
is  better  for  his  having  lived,  thousrhhis 


58     FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

years  were  few  on  earth.  Many  of  the  poor 
and  infirm  remember  with  gratitude  his 
tender,  helpful  counsel,  and  how  he  was 
ever  eager  with  open  hand  and  cheerful 
word  to  relieve  distress  and  dispense 
comfort.  Mr.  Huntington's  professional 
attainments  were  of  a  thorough  standard  ; 
his  views  were  liberal  as  to  denomina- 
tional differences.  Reticent  to  a  degree 
that  always  marks  the  man  of  earnest 
calibre,  with  a  sympathetic,  loving  nature, 
he  filled  a  place  that  requires  no  lasting 
monument  to  denote  the  loss  his  death  has 
occasioned." 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   YEAR   ABROAD. 

One  of  the  most  fatal  things  in  the  way  of  the 
enjoyment  of  travel  is  a  mental  condition  of  criti- 
cism and  antagonism.  You  should  surrender  your- 
self to  the  influences  that  make  the  place  you  visit 
what  it  is  in  history  and  in  art. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner. 

In   the  spring  of   1880    the    opportune 
time  seemed  to  come  for  fulfilling  a  long- 
cherished  purpose    which  Frederick    and 
his  older  brother  had    formed  of  spend- 
ing a  year  together  in  Europe.     He  had 
spent  two    busy   years    in   the    Brooklyn 
parish,  and  was  beginning  to  feel  the  strain 
of  the  continuous  draft  upon  his  powers  ;  so 
that  a  year  in  a  German  University,  with 
some    travel   thrown    in,    as    relaxation, 
looked  like  a  delightful  break  in  his  life. 
He  determined  upon  it  partly  from  a  feel- 
in2:  of  obliiicatlon  to  himself.     He  had  not 
finished  his  theological  course  in  Boston ; 


/ 


60  FREDERICK   SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

and  he  therefore  felt  that  he  ought  oot  to 
settle  into  his  life-work  without  a  some- 
what stronger  outfit  which  only  uninter- 
rupted study  could  give.  It  was  not  to 
get  away  from  his  work  as  a  minister,  but 
rather  to  enter  into  it  by  a  more  abundant 
preparation,  that  he  determined  to  spend 
a  year  in  Europe.  We  therefore  left  New 
York,  April  17, 1880,  accompanied  by  Dr. 
Bradford  P.  Kaymond,  now  president  of 
Wesley  an  University,  and  his  family. 
Frederick  and  I  were  companions  through 
some  of  the  most  interesting  points  in 
Scotland  and  England. 

In  Edinburgh,  Cambridge,  Rugby,  and 
London  we  stopped  just  long  enough  to 
take  a  glimpse,  and  to  feel  something  of 
the  thrill  that  these  old  centres  of  civili- 
zation and  letters  give  to  the  visitor  from 
the  New  World.  Every  fresh  and  beauti- 
ful landscape,  every  storied  monument, 
every  noble  cathedral,  every  cruml)ling 
ruin  whose  past  grandeur  had  gone  to 
decay,  had  its  peculiar  charm  for  him 
whose  eyes  were  quick  to  perceive  and 
whose  heart  was  responsive  to  all  that 
was  tender,  instructive,  or  great  in  nature 


A  YEAR  ABROAD.  61 

and  in  art.  The  eminent  London  preach- 
ers, some  of  them,  like  Canon  Farrar, 
and  Spurgeon,  were  fully  as  interesting 
to  him  as  any  merely  material  object  in 
the  old  metropolis.  We  both  were  intent 
upon  reaching  the  German  Universities 
before  the  summer  semester  closed,  and 
therefore  mere  sight-seeing  was  cut  short. 
At  Bonn,  Frederick  decided  to  tarry  and 
enter  upon  study.  We  called  upon  Prof. 
Christlieb  in  his  delightful  study,  and  were 
most  cordially  welcomed.  He  was  then 
preaching  and  lecturing  at  the  University 
of  Bonn,  and  seemed  to  be  in  the  full 
vigor  of  his  powers.  Frederick  was 
drawn  to  him  at  once ;  and  it  was  the 
strong  personality  of  this  man,  as  much 
as  the  renown  of  the  University  itself, 
that  attracted  him.  Prof.  Christlieb  was 
then  ofiviniT  lectures  both  on  Homiletics  and 
on  Missions.  Both  these  courses  interested 
Frederick,  and  he  was  a  faithful  listener 
to  his  instructor,  not  only  in  these  more 
formal  studies,  but  also  in  the  Saturday 
afternoon  talks  which  Christlieb  gave  to  a 
company  of   his    most   earnest    students, 


62  FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

when  in  the  privacy  of  his  study  or  dur- 
ing  a  ramble  in  the  fields,  along  the 
beautiful  borders  of  the  Rhine,  he  would 
reveal  the  riches  of  his  own  consecrated 
life,  and  drop  many  a  wise  and  fruitful 
suggestion. 

Prof.  Christlieb  stood  forth  as  one  of 
the  most  earnest  defenders  of  a  vital, 
evangelical  foith  in  the  German  Universi- 
ties. At  a  time  when  the  fashionable 
thing  among  University  men  was  to  criti- 
cise and  to  doubt  the  great  biblical  utter- 
ances of  Christianity,  Theodore  Christlieb 
was  known  and  will  continue  to  be  remem- 
bered as  a  faithful  and  earnest  preacher 
of  the  truth,  loyal  to  the  plain  declarations 
of  the  Scriptures,  zealous  for  the  spread 
of  a  warm,  practical  type  of  Christian 
life  over  the  world,  and  sincerely  work- 
ing to  counteract  the  tendencies  toward 
formalism  and  rationalism  in  the  Luth- 
eran confession.  This  eloquent  preacher 
and  fervent  expounder  of  Christian  truth 
was  Frederick's  chief  guide  in  his  German 
studies.  The  language,  of  which  he  had 
some  knowledge  before  he  left  America, 
came  much  more  easily  and  rapidly  to  him 


A  YEAR  ABROAD.  63 

by  reason  of  the  Saturday  afternoons  with 
Prof.  Christlieb,  and  through  the  genial 
companionships  which  were  formed  with 
German  students.  During  the  time  he  was 
in  Bonn,  he  also  formed  pleasant  ac- 
quaintance with  a  number  of  English  and 
American  residents,  and  occasionally  as- 
sisted in  the  Sunday  services  kept  up  by 
the  English-speaking  colony. 

A  vigorous  missionary  society  was 
formed  by  Prof.  Christlieb's  influence 
among  the  University  theological  students. 
I  recollect  Frederick's  account  of  one  of 
the  public  meetings  of  this  society  to 
raise  funds  for  mission  purposes,  and  his 
amused  expression  as  he  told  how,  in 
reckoning  up  the  expense  of  the  beer  for 
this  Sunday  afternoon  missionary  meeting, 
it  was  found  that  the  collection  for  mis- 
sions was  less  than  the  beer-bill.  First, 
the  incongruity  of  having  beer  served  at 
a  missionary  meeting  at  all  ;  and  then  the 
fact  that  the  audience  paid  more  for  the 
beverage  than  they  did  for  evangelizing 
the  heathen,  was  absurd  to  the  last  degree 
to  an  American  preacher.  The  direction 
which  Frederick  gave  to   his  studies    in 


64  FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

Germany  showed  that  he  was  not  swerv- 
ing in  the  least  from  the  path  of  ministe- 
rial work  upon  which  he  had  so  earnestly 
entered.  He  intended  that  every  acquisi- 
tion in  the  Old  World,  every  new  inspira- 
tion, should  only  contribute  towards  a 
more  ample  equipment  for  preaching  the 
Gospel.  His  studies  in  Bonn  all  centred 
in  the  theological  department. 

My  own  studies  were  taken  up  in  Leip- 
zig, where  Dr.  Raymond  and  family  also 
settled,  in  May.  After  the  summer  term 
of  lectures  had  closed,  both  at  Leipzig  and 
Bonn,  Frederick  and  I  met  at  Frankfort 
to  begin  our  summer  travel  in  company. 
Never  were  two  young  men  more  ready 
for  a  tramp  into  the  glorious  mountain 
region  of  Switzerland  than  were  we  after 
the  strain  of  a  three  months'  struoole  with 
the  German  language.  Those  who  have 
been  through  the  discouragements  and 
efibrt  at  conquering  a  foreign  language 
know  well  the  feelings  of  helplessness, 
ignorance,  and  hopelessness  that  occasion- 
ally come,  like  a  pall,  over  the  mind  dur- 
ing the  first  weeks  of  study.  Especially 
with  those  whose  knowledge  of  the  coveted 


A  YEAR  ABROAD.  6^ 

language  has  been  gained  through  gram- 
mar and  dictionary,  and  who  have  felt  that 
a  ffiir  book-knowledge  was  already  ac- 
quired, do  these  back-sets  come  as  a  pe- 
culiar trial  when  among  the  people  whose 
tongue  is  being  studied.  Behind  us  were 
those  weeks  of  hard  study  ;  before  us  were 
three  months  to  be  spent  in  Southern 
Europe.  Our  eyes  were  lifted  toward  the 
Alps,  those  everlasting  hills  that  form  the 
great  water-shed  dividing  the  Roman  from 
Anglo-Saxon  civilizations. 

At  Heidelbersr  we  tarried  Ions:  enouofh 
to  see  something  of  its  ancient  University, 
to  walk  about  its  splendid  castle  ruin,  and 
out  upon  its  royal  mountain-top.  Our  first 
real  taste  of  Swiss  scenery  was  at  Lucerne. 
One  of  the  rarest  Sundays  that  we  spent 
together  anywhere  among  the  sacred  places 
of  Europe  was  out  on  the  neighboring 
heights  of  this  lovely  town.  No  cathedral 
can  rival  the  majestic  architecture  of  the 
Alps,  whose  massive  pillars,  cloud-piercing 
summits,  and  imperishable  walls  are  such 
as  no  human  power  could  build.  Nature, 
unaide<l  by  the  thought  which  Revelation 
has  added,  would  still  be  the  same  to  the 


66  FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

mere  vision.     Mountains  would  be  as  mas- 
sive,   sea    as    boundless,    every    crystal, 
flower,  and  bird  as  wonderful  in  form  and 
structure.     But  only  through  the  inspira- 
tion of  those  higher  ranges  of  truth  which 
have   been  revealed  in  the  Sacred  Word 
do  all  these  material  things  take  on  their 
real    significance.     So    when    these    two 
preachers   turned  aside   from    the  stately 
services    of    the   Lucerne  cathedral,  they 
entered  for  their  Sabbath  meditation  and 
worship   into   the   mountain    solitudes,  — 
Pilatus  on  one  side,  Rhigi  on  the  other, 
and  the  summits  of  the  Bernese  Oberland 
spread   like    a   billowing    sea,    making   a 
great  foreground  of  superb  scenery. 

It  is  difficult  to  choose  between  the 
different  centres  of  Switzerland  to  deter- 
mine which  is  the  more  favored  spot  for 
the  traveller.  The  fact  is  that  no  one 
mountain-height,  or  village,  or  valley  has 
all  the  beauty  or  grandeur.  The  pilgrim 
who  takes  his  staff"  and  bundle,  deserts 
the  highways  of  travel  used  by  rail  or 
coach,  and  follows  the  foot-paths  over 
mountains,  snow-fields,  and  glaciers,  cer- 
tainly has  the  advantage  over  all  other 
visitors  to  these  wonderful  regions. 


A  YEAK  ABROAD.  67 

A  memorable  walk  which  we  took  from 
Lucerne  was  from  the  Lake  up  the  valley 
of  the  Reuss  to  Hospenthal,  thence  over 
the  Furka  Pass,  across  the  Rhone  Glacier 
by  the  Grimsel  Hospice,  along  a  dashing 
mountain  stream  to  Lake    Brienz  and  to 
Interlaken.     Such  alternations  of  beauty 
and  majesty!     Our   steady  pace  was  the 
measure  of  the    movement   of  the  pano- 
rama.    It  was  not   always   sunshine,  but 
the  bright  days  were  all  the  more  glorious 
after   a    trudge    through    rain    and    mud. 
One  plunge  down  the  steep  descent  into 
the  vale  where  the  lonely  Grimsel  Hos- 
pice   stands    was    made    in    a    drenching 
thunder-shower.     Frederick  was  a  sturdy 
mountainer;   but   his    feet   were    literally 
stripped  of  their  covering  in  this  rough, 
precipitous  walk,  so  that  his  first  inquiry 
was  for  the  resident  cobbler  at  the  Hos- 
pice. 

After  a  visit  at  Interlaken  and  Geneva, 
our  second  tramp  was  undertaken.  Ge- 
neva had  been  made  very  interesting  by 
our  meeting  with  Rev.  Abel  Stevens, 
D.  D.,  who  had  been  for  some  years  a 
resident  there,  and  who  was  in  charge  of 


68  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HtJNTINGTON. 

the  American  cbapel.  He  kindly  guided 
us  to  some  of  the  most  interesting  spots  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Geneva,  especially  to 
those  made  famous  by  Byron  and  D'Au- 
bigne.  Our  first  glimpse  of  Mount  Blanc 
was  gained  by  us  after  a  walk  of  a  few 
hours  through  the  Tete  Noir  Pass  from 
Martigny.  It  was  a  perfectly  cloudless 
day  in  early  September  when  we  stood 
upon  Col  de  Balme  in  full  view  of  the 
Mer  de  Glace  and  the  gigantic  propor- 
tions of  the  mountain  of  snow  and  ice,  the 
vale  of  Chamouni  lying  like  an  emerald 
cradle  at  our  feet  in  the  immediate  fore- 
o^round.  Our  third  and  most  difiicult 
tramp  was  begun  at  the  confluence  of  the 
Rhone  and  the  Yisp  rivers  in  the  Rhone 
valley.  Following  up  along  the  valley  of 
the  little  tributary,  the  pedestrian  finds 
the  mountains  rising  in  larger  and  larger 
outlines,  for  he  is  facing  toward  the  giants 
that  stand  sentinels  about  the  little  village 
of  Zermatt.  Our  first  view  of  the  chief 
of  these  colossal  piles  of  rock  was  during 
a  thunder-storm  ;  the  Mattei'horn  looked 
grim  and  steadfast  in  the  midst  of  the 
storm  of  lightning,  rain,  and  wind,  and  the 


A  YEAR  ABROAD.  69 

thunder-bolts  were  prolonged  into  great 
continuous  rolls,  as  from  some  immense 
organ,  by  the  reverberations  from  adja- 
cent mountain-sides.  We  had  the  exact 
counterpart  in  our  next  day's  view  of  the 
same  great  peak  from  the  Riifel ;  for  the 
sky  was  calm  and  blue,  fleecy  clouds 
floated  above  the  high  crests  and  snow- 
fields,  and  a  perfect  picture  of  repose, 
solitude,  and  quiet  majesty  had  replaced 
the  wild  scene  of  an  Alpine  thunder-storm. 
Our  walk  from  the  Riffel  over  the  Gorner 
Grat,  the  Weissthor,  and  the  old  Monte 
Mora  Pass  to  the  Italian  Lakes  was  full  of 
interest  as  well  as  of  toil.  The  first  part 
of  this  journey  was  begun  under  a  clear 
starlight,  with  guides  and  lanterns,  for  we 
started  long  before  the  morning  light  was 
visible  upon  the  top  of  Monte  Rosa.  We 
passed  under  its  bulky  side,  and  the  still- 
ness of  the  air  was  broken  by  an  occa- 
sional avalanche  tumbling  and  rasping 
alono-  dow^n  its  ribs.  To  travel  for  eioht 
hours  upon  a  trackless  field  of  snow,  to 
see  the  chamois  skipping  among  the  clifis 
and  ice-fields,  to  sit  and  lunch  upon  a 
ridfi^e    of  unmeltin<>:  snow  more  than  ten 


70  " '  FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

tbousand  feet  above  sea  level,  to  look  off 
from  this  height  one  way  upon  the  great- 
est monarchs  of  the  Alps,  and  the  other 
way  upon  the  fruitful  plains  of  Lombardy, 
and  to  feel  the  exhilaration,  not  of  such  an 
altitude,  but  of  such  rare  Alpine  glories, 
were  experiences  which  made  that  day  one 
which  can  never  be  forsfotten.  Freder- 
ick's  own  impressions  of  our  subsequent 
visits  in  Italian  cities  are  best  given  in 
his  own  words  :  — 

"  Were  it  my  privilege  to  advise  as  to  the  time 
and  way  of  entering  Italy,  the  land  of  clear  skies 
and  buoyant  atmosphere,  I  would  say  —  let  the 
time  be  early  autumn,  and  the  way,  over  the 
Alps  by  Zermatt,  and  the  Weissthor.  But 
whether  one  takes  this  snowy  path  or  crosses 
by  the  Simplon  Pass,  one  brings  the  vigor  and 
robust  health  which  change  of  temperature  and 
of  water  cannot  easily  disturb.  Follow  on, 
until  the  valley  and  river  Anza  lead  to  the  first 
of  the  Italian  lakes.  Linger  at  the  Lakes  Mag- 
giore  and  Como,  until  the  beauty  and  sweetness 
of  upper  Italy  have  left  their  offerings  of  life 
in  soul  and  body.  One  cannot  go  back,  but  will 
soon  find  himself  in  Milan,  the  first  important 
resting-place  in  a  pilgrimage  to  Eome.  Of  art, 
there  is  one  piece  which  comes  to  mind  when- 
ever one  turns  in  retrospect  to  Milan,  Leonardo 
de  Vinci's   The  Last  Supper.      The  work  is  a 


A  YEAR  ABKOAD.  71 

creation:  and  the  mind  of  the  visitor  is  led  alonf>- 
by  the  masterful  skill  of  one  who  caught  the 
spirit  and  temper  of  the  Twelve  gathered  at  the 
Supper  with  their  Lord.  .  .  .  The  beautiful 
cathedral  is  the  master-piece  of  Milanese  archi- 
tecture. Erom  the  quarries  of  Gandoglia,  on 
the  border  of  Lake  Maggiore,  came  the  material 
of  this  cathedral,  the  pride  of  Christianity  and 
of  the  world,  a  building  that  fills  the  soul  with 
wonder,  and  proclaims  its  vastness  in  such  lines 
of  beauty  as  are  seen  in  none  of  the  other 
cathedrals  of  Europe.  .  .  .  It  is  Venice  that  one 
travels  far  to  see  ;  Yenice,  which  once  seen  is 
never  forgotten.  The  life  of  the  city,  its  past 
glory  and  present  interests,  are  gathered  about 
St.  Mark's.  Above  all  times  to  be  chosen  for 
moving  about  the  canals  of  Yenice  is  the  even- 
ing when  a  full  moon  rises  over  sea  and  city, 
and  when  the  countless  lights  give  a  splendor 
and  interest  to  a  scene  which  is  indescribable. 
It  is  then  that  one  delights  to  recall  the  history 
of  the  city  and  the  beginnings  of  Yenetian  life, 
when  refugees  fled  before  the  remorseless  con- 
queror of  the  Xorth,  and  built  their  rude  huts 
upon  the  islets  olf  shore  when  the  tides  of  the 
Adriatic  permitted.  These  small  islands,  little 
by  little,  became  populous;  ships  came  to  and 
went  from  the  Republic  of  the  sea;  the  wealth  of 
the  East  passed  through  the  hands  of  her  mer- 
chants, and  Yenice  at  length  gloried  in  a  wealth 
born  of  the  noble  parentage  of  adversity.  .  .  . 
As  one  winds  down  the  slope  of  the  Apennines 
towards  Elorence,   a  flood  of  recollections  and 


72  FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

anticipations  comes  to  mind;  but  these  can  never 
he  greater  than  the  real  charms  of  the  city  itself, 
which  lies  on  both  banks  of  the  beautiful  Arno, 
a  river  which  flows  in  such  pleasing  windings 
that  one  forgets  that  its  waters  are  turbid.     It  is 
always  pleasant  for  Americans  to  reflect  that,  in 
a  way,  we  have  become  associated  with  the  art 
history  of  Florence,  and  that  now,  as  a  country, 
we    are    known    through     American    sculptors 
whose  villas  and  studios  grace  some  of  the  high 
places  beyond  the  Arno.     The   sculptor  of  the 
Greek  Slave  is  gone;  but    upon   his  sons,   who 
still  keep  open  the  studio,  the  mantle  of  their 
father's    genius     seems    to    have    fallen  —  the 
Powers  brothers.     Thomas  Ball,  also,  as  Ameri- 
cans well  know,  has  wrought    many  memorial 
pieces  of  superior  merit  for  our  country.     His 
villa-home    we   found    in   the   same    delightful 
suburbs     of    Florence    .  .  .  The     Westminster 
Abbey  of  the  city  is  the  church  of  Santa  Croce, 
where  Galileo  and  Michael  Angelo  were  laid  to 
rest.     Their  tombs  are  prominent  among  many 
others  that  bear  the  names  of  Italy's   honored 
dead.     Florence  is  best  known  by  her  art  treas- 
ures gathered  principally  in  the  Pitti  and  Uffizl 
Galleries.     The  nations  are  glad  that  Italy  once 
had  her  Medicis  to  extend  their  munificent  pat- 
ronage   to  the   development  and   spread  of  the 
arts.     Beautiful  Florence,  the  home  and  treas- 
ury of  so  much  that  is  an  inspiration  to  the  soul ! 
May  no  rough  hand  of  war,  no  desolating  power 
be   laid  upon   thy  vine-girded   slopes  and  olive 
orchards!     May  these  rich  galleries  remain  iu- 


A  YEAR  ABROAD.  73 

violate  for  ages,   that  thousands  yet  may  visit 
them  from  all  the  distant  lands !  .  .  . 

It  is  not  mere  curiosity  that  brings  the  travel- 
ler to  Home.  Rome's  ancient  pageantry  is 
gone.  But  modern  research  lias  dug  down 
through  the  rubbish  of'  careless  ages,  and  has 
kindled  an  interest  in  the  great  city's  magnifi- 
cent history,  which  has  resulted  in  modern 
excavations  that  are  so  helpful  to  the  archaeolo- 
gist, so  gratifying  to  every  student  and  lover  of 
the  story  of  imperial  Eome. 

To  go  where  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars  stood, 
to  look  into  the  guard-room  of  the  Praetorium 
where  Paul  was  probably  imprisoned,  then  away 
to  the  Coliseum,  the  grandest  of  the  world's  ruins 
perhaps,  to  the  Via  Sacra,  where  the  ruts  of 
chariot  wheels  are  cut  deep  into  the  pavement, 
to  the  Porum,  where  so  much  of  Roman  history 
centres,  —  this  is  to  see  Rome.  The  old  aque- 
duct, the  ruins  of  Caracalla's  splendid  baths, 
the  famous  Arches,  Palaces,  and  Temples,  the 
marvellous  road  called  the  Appian  Way,  along 
which  came  many  returning  armies  with  trains 
of  battle-spoils  and  victorious  banners,  —  these 
ancient  and  most  venerated  ruins,  together  with 
the  churches,  the  galleries,  St.  Peter's,  and  the 
Vatican,  crowning  the  latter-day  glories,  make 
Rome  easily  chief  among  the  great  cities  of 
Europe. 

I  have  selected  these   extracts  from  a 
lecture — Among  Italy's  Treasures  — which 


74  FREDERICK  SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

Frederick  delivered  in  Brooklyn,  and 
which,  at  the  request  of  many  friends  and 
by  the  special  kindness  of  Mr.  F.  R. 
Gillespie,  was  published  in  a  small  volume. 

After  our  Summer  excursion  into  the 
South  was  ended  and  Rome,  the  chief 
city,  had  been  our  delight  for  a  fortnight 
in  October,  we  were  glad  to  turn  our  faces 
toward  university  work  once  more.  For 
the  Winter  semester,  Frederick  decided  to 
take  up  his  work  in  Gottingen,  where  Mr. 
Raymond  and  I  had  previously  determined 
to  spend  the  rest  of  our  year,  principally 
for  the  sake  of  hearing  lectures  by  Her- 
mann Lotze,  who  was  then,  as  it  proved, 
giving  his  last  course  of  lectures  in  phi- 
losophy, for  he  was  called  to  Berlin  Uni- 
versity in  March ,  and  died  there  very  soon 
after  his  transfer.  Frederick  took  a  course 
of  lectures  under  Prof.  Lotze  and  also  a 
course  in  theology  under  Prof.  Schultz. 

After  the  holidays,  during  which  we 
visited  Berlin  and  Dresden,  Frederick 
returned  to  Bonn  University,  where  he 
continued  his  work  under  Prof.  Christlieb 
till  the  first  of  March.  We  then  closed 
our   German    student-life,   and    went   to^ 


A   YEAR  ABROAD.  75 

gether  to  Piivis  ;  after  a  few  days  delight- 
fully spent  there,  and  a  week  in  London, 
we  crossed  the  sea  once  more,  ready  for 
new  toils  in  the  old  paths  of  ministerial 
service. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  COUNTRY  PARISH. 

How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  tlie  feet  of 
him  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that  publishetli 
peace.  —  Isaiah. 

Frederick  had  resigned  his  pastorate 
over  the  cono^reofation  of  the  Church  of 
the  Incarnation  when  he  left  for  Europe, 
April,  1880,  so  that  he  was  free  to  enter 
upon  any  work  that  seemed  to  l)e  a  provi- 
dential one  upon  his  return  in  1881.  The 
Reformed  Episcopal  Church  in  East  Brook- 
lyn was  just  at  this  time  without  a  rector  ; 
and  he  was  urgently  invited  to  supply  the 
vacant  pulpit.  This  he  consented  to  do 
for  six  months,  leaving  the  question  of  a 
permanent  settlement  an  open  one.  He 
was  therefore  almost  immediately  at  work 
for  the  Master ;  and  he  found  an  abundant 
field,  in  this  young  society,  for  all  his 
energy.     Yet  he  was  still  hesitant  in  re- 


THE  country"parisii.  77 

spect  to  making  the  Reformed  Episcopal 
Church  his  ecclesiastical  home.  The  de- 
nomination did  not  seem  to  be  irrowino- 
with  the  vigor  that  its  founders  had  prophe- 
sied, and  the  outlook  for  a  young  man, 
just  entering  upon  his  career,  was  not 
such  as  to  challenge  all  his  enthusiasm. 
At  the  expiration  of  the  term  for  which 
he  had  engaged  to  supply  this  East  Brook- 
lyn Church,  he  decided  not  to  settle,  much 
to  the  regret  of  the  membership,  and  was 
again  free.  Bishop  Fallows  was  still  Mis- 
sionary Bishop,  and  his  eye  was  upon  the 
needs  of  the  denomination  far  and   wide. 

A  little  society  in  Moncton,  New  Bruns- 
wick, was  without  a  shepherd,  and  Fred- 
erick was  invited  to  go  there  and  supply 
the  pulpit  for  the  winter  1881-82.  His 
active  temperament,  and  love  of  change 
and  travel,  induced  him  to  accept  the 
invitation  ;  and  he  afterwards  spoke  of  his 
Canadian  pastorate,  of  a  few  months  only, 
with  much  interest.  Having  filled  out  the 
term  of  supply  at  Moncton  he  returned  to 
Boston  in  the  spring  of  1882. 

It  was  very  natural  that  he  had  often 
turned  his  thoughts  towards  his  unfinished 


78  FREDERICK   SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

theological  course  which  he  had  begun  in 
1877,  at  Boston  University.     This  break 
in  his  work  of  preaching  seemed  to   offer 
an    opportunity    for   him   to  complete  his 
course    for    the    degree    of    Bachelor   of 
Theology.     He  thus  re-entered  upon   his 
studies,  and  at  the  same   time   undertook 
to    supply   the    pulpit   of    the    Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  at  Allston,  a  suburb  of 
Boston.     The  pulpit  work  thus  opened  to 
him   made  him  quite  contented  to  go  on 
with  a  course  of  study,  feeling,  as  he  did, 
that  he  was  not  laying  down  his  practical 
work.     His  Allston  w^ork  was  in  some  re- 
spects a  difficult  one  ;  but  the   results  of 
his  labors  there,  to  July,  1883,  were   felt 
lono-  after  he  had  oone,  in  the  hearts  of 
many    of    the    young   people    who    were 
brought  to  Christ   by  his   preaching   and 
life.     After   his   course  in    theology    was 
ended,   and  a  good   work  wrought  in  the 
Allston  comnmnity,   he  went,  during  the 
summer  of  1883,  to  make  a  visit  to  Worth- 
ington.     This  proved  to  be  the  beginning 
of  his  pastorate  of  five  years  in  that  almost 
ideal  country  parish.     For  the  Worthing- 
ton  (Congregational)  church  was  then  with- 


THE  COUNTRY  PARISH.  79 

out  a  pastor ;  and  he  was  invited  to  supply 
the  pulpit  while  a  visitor  in  this  delightful 
hill-town.  Something  in  the  very  air  of 
AVorthingfon  was  stimulating  and  inspir- 
in<>-.     He  loved  the  freedom  from  conven- 

IT' 

tionalities    which  such  a  community    and 
parish  necessarily   enjoyed.     He  was  not 
made  to  enjoy  the  restraints,  the  formal- 
ities, the  artificialities  in  social   life  which 
are  quite  sure  to  invade  our  municipalities 
everywhere.    Frederick  had  seen  enough  of 
city  parish  work  to  understand  something 
of  the  hinderances    which  a  pastor   mu-t 
meet  in  his  efforts  to  increase  spiritual  life 
and  religous  interest   among   the  distrac- 
tions and  formalisms  of  metropolitan  condi- 
tions.     Nothing   distresses  a  city  pastor 
more  than  to  feel  his  work  crowded  upon 
in    its  every    department    by    the    noisy, 
showy,  imperious  city  itself.     The  city  is 
materialistic  and    mechanical    almost    by 
necessity.     So  that  our  churches  planted 
in  the  midst  of  city  conditions  are  quite 
liable    to    be   infected    by    the    tone    and 
temper   of  the  connnunity  in  which  ihey 
must  exist.      The   country,  on  the   other 
hand,    is    quiet;    the    feverish    municipal 


80  FREDERICK   SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

spirit  never  intrudes ;  the  materialism,  if 
it  exists,  is  of  quite  another  sort.  Coun- 
try Christians  may  be  as  worldly  as  city 
saints,  but  their  wordliness  is  of  a  different 
type. 

Worthington  is  a  town  of  farmers,  with 
several  interesting  ftimilies  of  retired  busi- 
ness men  living  in  quiet  comfort.  There 
is  scarcely  nucleus  enough  of  houses  any- 
where in  the  township  to  be  called  a 
proper  village.  The  town  has  been  known 
from  immemorial  days  of  New  England 
history  as  one  of  the  most  thrifty  agricul- 
tural districts  of  Massachusetts.  Its  popu- 
lation is  somewhat  sparsely  scattered  over 
the  hills  and  valleys  ;  and  yet  there  is  an 
appearance  of  comfort  and  prosperity  in 
the  homes  and  ftirms,  which  elements  are 
sadly  wanting  in  many  of  the  agricultural 
districts  ofNew  Eno^land.  The  Worthins- 
ton  meeting-house,  as  it  stood  when  Fred- 
erick preached  his  first  sermon  there,  was 
a  town  land-  mark.  Standing  in  about  the 
centre  of  the  town,  on  high  table-land, 
and  painted  white,  it  could  be  seen  from 
many  hill-tops  both  within  and  beyond  the 
town    limits.     The    dwellers   in    this  hill- 


THE  COUNTRY  PARISH.  81 

country  are  fully  up  to  the  average  of  intel- 
liirence  among  the  New  England  yeomanry. 
And  the  fact  that  for  generations  this  one 
church  has  been  the  centre  of  the  reli- 
o-ioas  life  of  the  town,  c^ave  to  it  an  im- 
portance  which  it  could  not  have  had  if 
the  spiritual  interests  of  the  community 
had  been  divided  between  three  or  four 
Christian  organizations. 

Frederick  preached  with  such  acceptance 
durincr  the  weeks  of  his  vacation  that  he 
was  pressed  by  influential  members  of  the 
church  and  congregation  to  become  a  per- 
manent   supply    for   a   year.     As  he  was 
under  no  very  stringent  obligation  to  the 
Allston  society,  having  taken  up  his  work 
there  simply   under  the  direction    of  the 
Presiding   Elder  —  he   felt    free   to    enter 
what    seemed    to    him   an    open    door  for 
earnest  and  effective  work.     So  that,  in- 
stead of   returning  to  Allston,  he    disen- 
o-jio-ed    himself,    throuirh    correspondence, 
from  his  work  there,  and  agreed  to  supply 
the  Worthington  pulpit    for  a  year.     To 
many  of  his  friends,  and  probably  to  some 
of  the  town's  people  themselves,  his  strong, 
enthusiastic  love    for  this  country    parish 


82  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

seemed  strange.  Quite  distant  from  a 
railway  station,  with  no  special  opportunity 
for  intellectual  stimulus  and  life  outside 
of  pastoral  duties  and  relations,  this 
parish,  it  was  thought,  could  hardly  be 
attractive  to  him.  Summer  and  Winter, 
year  in  and  year  out. 

It  may  suffice,  if  I  mention  two  or  three 
facts  which  serve  to  explain  the  charm 
which  Worthino^ton  had  for  him. 

First,  Frederick  had  an  ardent  love  for 
the  natural  beauties  of  the  hills.  His 
earliest  impression  of  the  town  came  to 
him  in  the  full  tide  of  summer  life.  He 
was  captivated  at  once  by  the  contour  of 
the  landscape,  the  fresh  mountain-streams, 
the  deep,  solemn  woods,  the  luxurious 
valleys,  the  ample  meadows.  The  old 
life  upon  that  western  farm  seemed  to 
return  to  his  veins,  as  he  found  it  i)ossible 
here  to  be  a  preacher  and  enjoy  country 
life  at  the  same  time.  He  had  been 
Aveaned  from  the  actual  life  of  the  farmer, 
but  still  loved  the  former's  conditions  — 
the  open  air,  contact  with  nature,  a  robust 
life.  He  had  too  much  of  the  poet  in  him 
to  feel  entirely  happy  if  shut  away  from 


THE   COUNTRY  TARISH.  83 

fields  and  woods.  Another  condition  for 
his  enjoyment  in  the  Worthington  work 
was  that  it  was  quite  independent  of  any 
ecclesiastical  machinery.  It  suited  exactly 
his  desire  for  freedom  in  his  movements 
to  be  in  charge  of  this  society,  which  was 
the  only  church  within  a  radius  of  five 
miles,  and  which  did  not  ask  him  to  be 
formally  installed,  laid  no  restrictions 
upon  him  of  theological  statement,  but 
sim[)ly  asked  him  to  be  pastor  and  preacher 
for  the  fiock. 

A  third  and  very  cogent  reason  for  his 
love  for  this  parish  was  that  he  found  in 
tlie  hearts  of  the  Worthington  people  a 
warm  response  to  his  earnest  efforts  in 
their  behalf.  They  were  glad  to  have  a 
leader  to  go  before  them  and  say,  Come  ! 
And  his  career,  running  through  five  years, 
was  a  constant  evidence  of  the  mutual 
confidence  and  aflfection  which  existed 
between  pastor  and  people.  With  easy 
grace  and  strong,  persuasive  character 
Frederick  entered  into  and  became  part 
of  the  life  of  Worthington.  He  knew 
the  dwellers  in  every  house.  There  was 
not  a  lonely  soul  anywhere  within  the  wide 


84  FREDERICK   SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

limits  of  the  town  that  did  not  share  his 
pastoral  visits,  which  were  always  wel- 
come. He  knew  where  the  pining  invalids 
lived,  and  made  his  most  frequent  calls  on 
these.  His  most  earnest  reh'o^ious  efforts 
were  for  the  young  people,  whose  interest 
he  strove  by  every  means  to  enlist  in  the 
common  work  and  life  of  the  church. 
Realizinsf  that  intellectual  life  ou^ht  to 
keep  pace  with  spiritual  enligiitenment, 
he  was  all  the  time  seeking  to  elevate  and 
refine  the  mental  side  of  his  parish.  The 
town  library,  which  is  now  a  very  respect- 
able one,  was  of  his  originating.  He 
interested  the  people  in  starting  a  fund, 
gathered  together  books  and  laid  the 
foundations  for  a  public  library  which  is 
likely  to  go  on  increasing  in  scope  and 
usefulness  in  the  coming  years.  For 
several  Winters  he  also  formed  classes 
among  the  young  people  for  the  study  of 
history,  literature,  and  language,  so  as  to 
encourage  those  who  were  studiously  in- 
clined and  who  could  not  go  from  home 
for  study,  in  the  pursuit  of  wholesome 
learning.       But   his   work   was    not    un- 


alanced   by  these   exertions  for  the  in- 


THE  COUNTRY  PARISH.  85 

tellectual  good  of  his  people.  These  in- 
fluences which  were  at  work  as  agencies 
for  a  subordinate  end  were  all  subsidiary 
to  the  one  primal  current  which  he  kept 
steadily  moving  from  the  pulpit ;  he  never 
forgot  that  he  was  sent  to  preach  the 
gospel.  His  chief  w^ork  was  to  teach  and 
preach  Christ,  and  by  all  means  to  save 
souls.  The  young  men  had  his  special 
sympathy  and  devoted  ]al)ors.  Nothi r.g 
rejoiced  him  so  much  as  to  see  one  and 
another  forsaking  a  life  of  listlessness  or 
of  open  hostility  to  religious  things,  and 
taking  up  manful!}^  the  j(»ys  and  respon- 
sibilities of  a  Christian  life.  By  his  per- 
suasive manner,  and  his  unquenchable 
love  for  their  souls,  he  brought  many 
to  yield  allegiance  to  Christ  who  will  at 
the  last  Great  Day  rise  up  and  call  him 
blessed. 

It  is  singular  that  some  traces  of  his 
life  are  left  in  AYorthington  which  tell  of 
all  the  varied  interests  he  carried  on  for  the 
good  of  the  town.  The  beautiful  street 
which  runs  past  the  church  and  which  com- 
mands one  of  the  finest  views  in  the  town, 
was  without  a  lining  of  shade  trees  until 


86    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

he  made  a  raovemcDt  one  Spring  among 
the  good  farmers,  going  out  with  them 
himself,  and  helping  to  plant  a  double  row 
of  thrifty  maples  which  in  a  few  years  Avill 
make  the  road  to  the  sanctuary  delightixil 
under  the  sunniest  sky.  So  much  did 
he  admire  this  height  upon  which  the 
church  stood,  and  the  view  of  the  distant 
hills  and  villages  which  it  commands,  that 
he  bouoht  a  small  lot  of  o^round  within  a 
half  mile  of  the  church  site,  and  planted  it 
with  apple-trees.  This  was  part  of  his 
open-air  recreation.  He  loved  to  make 
rough  places  smooth,  and  the  desert  spots 
blossom,  leaving  upon  the  eai'th  under  his 
faithful  feet  the  evidence  of  a  life  that 
loved  to  promote  life  in  all  its  types 
and  variations  ;  for  he  was  a  minister  com- 
missioned by  Him  who  came  that  the  world 
might  have  life,  and  thnt  it  might  have  it 
more  abundantly.  A  sad  disaster  to  the 
minister  and  parish  of  Worthington  came 
in  the  winter  of  1887,  when  the  old  church, 
so  long  a  sacred  landmark,  took  fire  dur- 
ing a  heavy  snow-storm  and  was  burned 
to  the  ground.  It  took  no  little  effort,  in 
a  community  where  money  is  not  plenty. 


THE  COUNTRY  PARISH.  87 

to  raise  the  amount  necessary  to  fill  out  an 
inadequate  insurance,  and  to  rebuild.  The 
brunt  of  such  a  task  almost  always  de- 
volves upon  the  minister,  and  Frederick 
carried  through  the  task,  difficult  and 
delicate  at  times,  when  diflferent  opinions 
as  to  ways  and  means  were  in  competition, 
to  a  triumphant  conclusion.  So  that  the 
new  church,  completed  and  dedicated  in 
the  Spring  before  his  labors  closed,  stands 
a  fitting  monument  to  the  joint  labors  of 
himself  and  his  loyal  parishioners.  And  if 
it  be  permitted  him  to  look  back  upon  the 
field  of  his  earthly  labors  from  the  heights 
to  which  his  life  has  been  taken,  he  must 
take  great  joy  in  seeing  the  work  of  grace 
still  going  on  within  the  circle  which  he 
once  helped  to  fill,  and  to  which  he  gave 
his  consecrated  labors. 

One  event  that  occurred  during  the  last 
year  of  his  Worthington  ministry  was  too 
important  to  be  omitted  in  this  narrative, 
and  yet  too  tender  and  sad  to  bear  more 
than  the  most  delicate  allusion.  He  had 
found  among  his  parishioners  one  young 
woman,  ]Miss  Elizal)eth  Hewitt,  who  by  her 
sincere  Christian  character  had  so  won  his 


88  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

affection  that  he  had  asked  her  to  be  the 
companion  of  his  life,  for  his  future 
ministry,  which,  alas,  was  never  to  be  filled 
out;  death  interrupted  before  the  marriage 
vows  were  spoken. 

His  Worthington  ministry  has  been 
mentioned  as  runnin^:  throuoh  about  five 
years.  But  one  episode  occurred  in  1888 
which  forms  a  distinct  chapter  in  Freder- 
ick's ministry.  Partly  from  a  feeling  that 
his  work  for  Worthington  had  at  this 
point  been  accomplished,  and  partly  from 
the  earnest  invitation  of  an  old  friend  of 
the  faniily,  Elihu  Colman,  Esq.,  of  Fond  du 
Lac,  Wisconsin,  he  went  West,  and,  for 
about  three  months,  took  charge  of  the 
pastorless  church  of  which  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Colman  were  influential  members.  Fred- 
erick's own  account  of  this  event,  as  re- 
[)orted  from  one  of  his  addresses  to  the 
Fond  du  Lac  cono^reofation  in  a  Wisconsin 
paper,  is  interesting  :  — 

Sunday  evening  last,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  sec- 
ond sermon  in  this  city,  Mr.  Huntington  related 
some  strange  experiences  which  had  been  associated 
with  his  invitation  to  come  here.  One  Sunday  in 
December,  when  he  had  thought  upon  a  particular 
subject   in  preparation  for  a  discourse  and  with 


THE   COUNTRY   TARISH.  89 

especial  interest  duriiii?  the  week,  and  when  he  was 
about  to  start  for  his  church,  he  said  it  seemed  as  if 
a  veil  was  let  down  before  hlin,  shutting;  off  the 
light  that  had  a:.>peared  to  have  hcen.uiven  him  with 
great  fulness  in  behalf  of  the  special  topic.  He 
fancied  that  he  was  thus  to  be  instructed  to  abandon 
that  sermon,  which  he  did.  Going  to  his  pulpit  he 
preached  from  another  text,  but  his  old  sense  of 
freedom  to  go  ahead  in  the  work  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  he  said,  did  not  return  to  him,  and  after  a 
few  days  he  determined  he  must  separate  from  the 
people,  though  the}^  were  so  dear  to  him,  and  he 
apparently  to  them.  Where  he  should  go  he  knew 
not.  A  dream  he  had  had  but  a  few  nights  before 
probably  had  considerable  influence  in  determining 
his  mind  for  this  decision.  He  dreamed  that  his 
father,  who  is  deceased,  called  to  him,  and,  as  was 
his  wont  when  he  instructed  him  in  some  duties  in 
the  line  of  limited  farming  operations  years  before, 
told  him  there  were  duties  in  a  certain  field  to  per- 
form. It  was  approaching  the  Christmas  season, 
and  he  went  away  from  Wonhington  to  join  in  a 
family  reunion,  and  while  there  a  letter  came  from 
Fond  du  Lac,  telling  of  the  situation  in  the  Division 
Street  M.  E.  Church  here,  and  inquiring  if  he  was  at 
liberty  to  be  called.  It  seemed  to  him  he  could  see 
a  Providence  in  it  all  —  a  guiding  that  was  irresist- 
ible. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Colman  have  expressed 
their  lovinij  estimate  of  Frederick's  lirier 
term  of  pastoral  work  with  them  in  the 
following  delicate  way  :  — 


90  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

"  111  January  of  1886  the  Division  Street  M.  E. 
Church,  of  Fond  dii  Lac,  Wisconsin,  was  suddenly- 
left  without  a  pastor,  and  in  casting  about  for  some 
one  who  would  fill  the  position  with  the  greatest 
acceptability,  the  name  of  Rev.  F.  S.  Huntington 
was  suggested ;  an  invitation  extended  and  accepted. 
He  quickly  won  his  way  to  the  hearts  of  the  people. 
In  three  short  mouths  he  had  quietly  led  twentj'^- 
three  to  begin  a  Christian  life.  He  was  especially 
interosted  in  young  men.  The  warmth  and  depth 
of  his  interest  was  so  ingeniously  manifested  as  not 
only  to  secure  their  love  to  him  personally,  but  to 
lead  them  to  seek  a  high  type  of  Christian  manhood, 
and  to  devote  themselves  loyally  to  the  Master's 
service.  Genuineness  of  character  and  enthusiasm 
were  qualities  he  never  tired  of  enforcing  as  indis- 
pensable to  success  for  every  young  disciple.  Christ 
was  aliviug  presence  to  him,  —  a  personal  Friend,  — 
and  the  deep,  unseen  things  of  God,  living  entities. 
That  God  was  '  nearer  to  us  than  our  own  souls  '  he 
often  voiced  in  prayer.  Every  sermon,  and  the 
tender,  worship-breathing  spirit  that  he  gave  to 
every  public  service  assured  the  worshippers  of  the 
great  truth  that  *  In  him  we  live  and  move  and  have 
our  being.'  His  genial  presence,  his  love  for  chil- 
dren, his  sympathy  with  the  suffering  ones,  his 
hatred  of  shams,  his  exalted  spiritual  life,  are 
characteristics  that  made  him  the  beloved  pastor 
and  friend  in  every  home. 

"What  hope  and  cheer  his  visitations  brought  to 
the  poor  and  unfortunate  of  this  parish  !  Faithfully 
he  ministered  to  their  spiritual  necessities,  not  for- 
getting generously  to  supply  needed  physical  com- 
forts. His  presence  was  indeed  to  them  a  benedic- 
tion.    His  interest  was  not  confined  to  the  church 


THE   COUNTRY  PARISH.  91 

he  served,  but  the  entire  city  shared  his  j^enerous 
thought.  How  to  win  the  masses  to  Christ  was  a 
quesUon  that  burued  in  his  heart.  Preaching  to  the 
few  well-ordered  people  who  frequent  the  churches 
while  the  great  throng  outside  was  unfed,  gave 
him  great  uneasiness.  He  longed  to  break  to  the 
masses  the  bread  of  life. 

"  Perhaps  in  no  line  does  his  influence  move  more 
potently  among  the  people  than  in  the  broad  Chris- 
tian education  his  catholic  spirit  fostered.  The 
Church  of  Christ  —  so  much  dearer,  so  much  grander 
than  any  one  sect  — so  filled  his  thoughts  that  it 
left  no  room  for  denominational  bigotry.  Did  this 
spirit  ever  confront  him,  he  simply  withdrew  from 
its  presence,  not  even  giving  it  the  nourishment  of 
an  opposing  word. 

"  As  beloved  pastor,  brother,  and  friend  he  still 
lives,  and  his  blessed  memory  helps  many  to  better 
living  and  doing." 

Although  very  earnestly  urged  by  the 
people  of  the  Fond  du  Lac  church  to 
remain,  Frederick  returned  to  his  Worth- 
ington  parish  in  the  Spring,  from  which 
he  received  the  warmest  of  w^elcomes.  It 
was  during  this  period  spent  in  Fond  du 
Lac  that  he  received  his  ordination  as 
presbyter  at  the  hands  of  Bishop  Fallows, 
in  Chicaso  ;  an  event  already  mentioned 
in  a  previous  chapter. 

This    chapter    upon    his    AVorthington 


92  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

ministry  would  not  be  complete  without 
a  reference  to  his  wider  activities.  For 
several  months  he  rode  every  Sunday 
afternoon  to  the  neiofhborins:  town  of 
Cummington,  and  held  a  service  in  the 
Congregational  church,  which  at  that  time 
was  without  a  pastor.  His  labors  in  be- 
half of  this  communit}^  were  highly  ap- 
preciated ;  and  the  actual  results  for  the 
congregation,  in  spiritual  quickening,  were 
an  ample  reward  for  his  generous  efforts. 
He  also  mingled  actively  in  what  are 
called  fellowship  meetings,  —  gatherings, 
held  at  stated  periods,  of  all  the  neighbor- 
ing churches,  for  united  services,  consist- 
ing of  sermons,  addresses,  and  discussion 
of  questions  of  vital  religious  interest  to 
the  parishes  represented.  These  meet- 
ings are  held  at  the  diiferent  churches 
of  the  hill  towns,  in  turn,  and  occupy  a 
whole  day.  Frederick  was  always  en- 
thusiastic in  promoting  such  movements 
as  looked  toward  an  increase  of  effective 
power  in  church  life,  and  a  broadening  of 
the  kingdom  of  Christ. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    FINAL   CALL. 

Just  when  we  think  all  this  ripe  wisdom  garnererl 
up  from  so  many  fields  shall  find  its  fullest  use,  we 
hear  that  all  is  over,  he  has  passed  from  among  us. 
But  to  ask  why  such  a  mind  is  taken  from  us  is 
just  as  absurd  as  to  question  why  the  tree  of  the 
forest  has  its  first  training  in  the  nursery  garden. 

F.  W.  Egberts  ON. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  year  1888 
some  correspondence  began  between  Fred- 
erick and  the  representative  officers  of  the 
Mayflower  Congregational  Church  of  In- 
dianapolis, in  reference  to  his  assuming 
the  pastorate  of  that  society.  He  had 
been  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Day  and 
family,  in  Indianapolis,  during  the  winter, 
and  had  preached  for  the  Mayflower  con- 
gregation while  there.  After  some  pre- 
liminary negotiation,  an  earnest  and 
unanimous  call  came  from  the  society, 
which  Frederick  decided  after  due  delib- 
eration to  accept,  intending  to  sever  his 


94  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

connection  with  the  beloved  Worthino-ton 
parish  after  a  few  months.  This  new 
field  did  not  o{)en  to  him  as  a  sinecure. 
He  was  not  induced  to  pull  up  the  roots 
of  his  pastoral  life  and  engage  to  go  to 
this  western  parish  because  it  was  large 
or  wealthy,  or  contained  the  promise  of  an 
easy  ministry.  The  main  element  of  at- 
traction was  that  the  society  Avas  young, 
energetic,  and  apparently  had  an  impor- 
tant history  to  make  in  the  viirorous 
metropolis  of  Indiana.  He  had  been  the 
pastor  of  Worthington  Church  about  five 
years.  He  had  rounded  out  what  seemed 
to  him  the  work  that  he  was  sent  there  to 
do  ;  and  a  change  of  scene  looked  now 
both  feasible  and  proper.  Yet  it  was  not 
without  many  a  pang  that  he  at  length 
determined  to  leave  the  old  and  enter 
upon  the  new  w^ork.  There  w^as,  at  least, 
so  much  of  sadness  in  thinkino;  of  Icnvins: 
Worthinoton,  tl]at  he  showed  no  enthusi- 
asm  for  the  distant  and  untried  field.  It 
looked  almost  like  a  reo'ret  at  times  which 
shadowed  his  happy  face,  as  he  thought 
and  spoke,  during  that  eventful  summer, 
of  becoming   a  })astor  in   the  city  of  In- 


THE   FINAL   CALL.  95 

(liiui.'ipolis.  I  can  recollect  of  saying  to 
myself,  after  hearing  him  speak  of  his 
prospective  work  one  day,  "He  will  never 
go  to  Indianapolis  !  "  Who  can  tell  wheth- 
er, by  the  mysterious  workings  of  divine 
Providence,  he  was  not  being  prepared 
for  the  utter  change  which  broke  all 
these  earthly  plans  that  were  forming? 
It  is  one  of  the  sad  thinirs  in  connection 
with  Frederick's  final  illness  that  on  those 
hills  of  Worthington,  so  delightful  always 
to  him,  and  in  tiie  parish  where  he  had 
lived  such  a  vi2:orous  and  efficient  life, 
where  he  had  kindled  by  faith  and  enthu- 
siasm so  many  spiritual  and  mental  expe- 
riences among  his  parishioners,  that  on 
those  high  places  the  sting  of  death  should 
be  given  him  by  the  deadly  typhoid  germs. 
Did  we  not  believe  in  a  ofreat,  lovinjj 
Providence,  it  would  seem  like  a  most 
malevolent  Fate  that  sent  a  mortal  shaft, 
and  laid  Ioav  the  faithful  minister  just  as 
he  was  closing  his  term  of  service,  forbid- 
ding him  to  enter  any  other  earthly  field. 
But,  even  under  the  benevolent  guid- 
ance of  God,  the  strong,  young  life  was 
allowed  to  receive  its  death-draught  from 


96  FREDERICK   SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

the    bosom  of  the  hills    of  Worthin^ton. 
Three    of  Bishop  Fallows'  children  were 
also  smitten  there  by  the  same  foe,  and 
by  only  a  narrow    margin    of  attenuated 
strength,  escaped  the  fatal  termination  of 
the    typhoid    fever    which   ended  Freder- 
ick's life.     He  was    the  one  child  in  our 
large  family  who  seemed  physically  proof 
against  ordinary  ills.     Compact,  vigorous, 
cheerful,  he  was  not  an  easy  candidate  for 
disease.     We    all    prophesied    for   him  a 
long   and    healthful    life.     For   this  very 
reason  he  was  himself  slow  to  believe  that 
any  serious  malady  had  laid  hold  of  him, 
when,  about  the  middle  of  August,  1888, 
he  began  to  feel  indisposed.     It  was  my 
pleasure  to  be  with  him  at  the  beofinninof 
of  his  sickness  and.  to    preach    for   him. 
He  made  light  of  his  symptoms  and  kept 
about   his    work.     His    last    sermon    was 
preached  on  the  twelfth  of  August,  when, 
as  Mrs.  Fallows  discovered  after  the  ser- 
vice was  ended,  his  temperature  was  over 
one    hundred ;   showing   that   the    deadly 
fever-fires  were  burning  through  his  veins. 
At  length  even  his  energy  could  hold  out 
no  longer,  and  he  yielded  reluctantly  — 


THE  FINAL  CALL.  97 

more  from  the  pressing  entreaties  of  Mrs. 
Fallows  and  others  who  were  watchino- 
him  with  solicitude,  than  because  he  was 
convinced  that  he  was  a  victim  of  the 
malignant  fever.  His  natural  refuire  was 
beneath  the  roof  of  mother's  home  in 
Amherst.  How  often  he  had  come  down 
from  the  hills  on  Mondays,  after  the  strain 
of  Sunday  labors,  or  after  a  long  period  of 
busy,  parochial  life,  and  found  the  loved 
home  in  Amherst  a  paradise  of  rest ! 
How  many  times  have  we  met  under  the 
"Three  Elms,"  lounged  upon  the  li^rass, 
taken  our  hoes  and  oone  into  the  aarden 
just  to  remind  ourselves  of  the  old  farm 
days  and  laugh  over  old  adventures  !  We 
compared  notes  upon  our  work  and  our 
reading,  struirgled  too-ether  over  the  larsfe 
questions  of  life,  destiny,  and  immortality. 
Here  it  was  that  the  old  and  cherished 
family  ties  were  kept  fresh  and  strong,  as 
he  frequently  brought  the  benediction  of 
his  cheerful  presence  to  father  and  mother 
at  first,  and  after  father's  death  in  1885, 
to  mother,  who  needed  all  the  more  the 
comforting  visits  of  her  children. 

It  is  not  strange  that  he  came  home  this 


98  FREDERICK   SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

time  —  the  last  time  —  with  a  somewhat 
cheerful  feeling,  notwithstanding  his  seri- 
ous illness;  for  home  had  always  been  the 
place  of  recuperation,  where  burdens  rolled 
off  and  aches  were  usually  banished.  But 
the  struggle  which  an  unconquerable  dis- 
ease was  waging  with  his  heroic  courage 
and  hopefulness  soon  made  itself  manifest. 
Pain  battered  steadily  at  the  citadel  of 
life ;  fever  fired  its  hot  arrows  at  his  con- 
fident strength.  Little  by  little  doubts 
about  his  recovery  crept  into  his  own 
mind  ;  and  he  no  sooner  felt  these  doubts 
than,  with  his  natural  frankness,  he  freely 
talked  of  them,  to  Theodore  and  EUery 
especially.  Solicitous  feeling  set  in  to 
make  the  days  and  nights  anxious  for 
mother  and  brothers,  who  were  the  faithful 
watchers.  Medical  skill  and  trained  nurs- 
ing  alleviated  suffering  a  little,  but  did  not 
conquer  the  powder  of  the  disease.  Hope 
rose  and  fell  w^ith  the  variations  in  the 
patient's  symptoms.  The  time  seemed 
long  and  weary,  though  it  was  only  one 
short  fortnight  tliat  the  struggle  lasted. 
The  dreaded  premonitions  at  last  were 
apparent,   that   the  courageous   life  could 


THE  FINAL  CALL.  99 

not  hold  out  very  long  against  the  foe. 
Teleoframs  announced  to  those  of  us  who 
were  within  reach  of  messages  that  the 
end  was  probably  near.  And  before  we 
could  realize  the  situation  we  were  actually 
jzathered,  as  if  in  an  unwelcome,  terrible 
dream,  to  see  our  beloved  Frederick 
vanish.  But  he  did  not  go  until  he  had 
made  that  chamber  of  death  a  "  mount 
of  vision." 

What  merciful  compensations  are  ordered 
in  the  wide  economy  of  divine  grace  !  To 
us  the  thought  of  his  death  was  agony. 
That  Frederick  was  to  die  seemed  the 
impossible  thing ;  we  w^ere  so  accustomed 
to  think  of  nothing  but  vitality  and  strength 
as  associated  with  his  very  name.  But 
the  inexorable  law  of  disease  worked  on  to 
its  fatal  conclusion.  Death  comes  again 
to  the  cottage 'of  peace  and  love;  and 
Frederick  is  summoned.  None  could 
break  to  him  the  decision  of  the  phy- 
sicians in  consultation  —  that  he  had  but 
a  little  while  to  live  —  but  mother.  With 
steady  voice,  with  the  brave  tenderness 
that  dwells  in  the  deep  places  of  a  mother's 
heart,  looking  down,  with  all  the  comfort 


100        FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

that  human  love  could  pour  into  the  look 
upon  the  weary,   pale    but  longing  face, 
she  said  to  him  :  "  Fred,  you  know  when 
Flora  was   called  to  pass  into  the    other 
world  how  glad  she  was  to  have  us  tell  her 
before  the  end  came,  that  death  was  near. 
Now,  the  physicians  say  that  you  have  but 
a  few  hours  to  live.     I  thouojht  we  oucjht 
to  tell  you,  for  you  may  have  some  things 
to  say  before  you  go."     I  was  an   unob- 
served witness  of  this  tenderest  dialoo'ue. 
He  looked  steadily  up  into  mother's  eyes 
as  she  spoke,  and  answered:   "Is  it  so?" 
No  tremor  in  his  voice,  no  shadow  of  dis- 
appointment or  of  fear  falling  across   his 
face!     "Well,"  he  added,  "it  is  a  great 
relief,  a  great  relief."     Putting  her  hand 
upon  his  pale  but  feverish  brow  and  look- 
ins  with  still  o'reater  earnestness  into  his 
eyes,   mother   asked  him  if  he  could  trust 
Christ   in   this   hour    of  death.     With    a 
clear,    confident  voice  he  exclaimed :    "/ 
have  preached   Christ  too  long  and  loved 
Him  too  well  not  to  trust  Him  noiv.^^ 

For  several  hours  strength  seemed  to  be 
specially  granted  him  to  talk  freely  with 
each  of  us ;  and  his  messages  to  all  were 


THE  FINAI.  CALL.  101 

as  if  from  a  soul  that  had  caught  glimpses 
already  of  the  Eternal  City,  and  was  enter- 
ing upon  its  confines.  He  thought  of  his 
going  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-six,  and 
said  :  "  I  am  a  broken  column  ;  and  yet, 
a  great  many  ministers  have  died  young." 
He  could  not,  even  in  these  moments  of 
dissolution,  forget  his  cherished  calling  as 
a  preacher  of  Christ's  gospel.  His  mind 
was  upon  the  relation  he  held,  and  was  to 
hold  forever,  with  the  great  work  of  build- 
ing men  up  in  truth  and  righteousness,  as 
he  said  to  me  :  "  You  know  I  have  been 
having  a  desire  lately  for  a  larger  field  — 
now  I  am  going  to  have  it."  He  had  never 
been  a  discontented  worker  in  the  parishes 
to  which  he  had  ministered.  But  he  was 
conscious  of  powers  that  were  eager  to 
engage  in  important  work,  and  competent 
to  mould  and  influence  large  numbers. 

All  that  he  said  on  that  solemn  fourth  of 
September,  in  the  hush  of  that  chamber, 
had  a  singular,  spiritual  beauty  and  im- 
pressiveness.  Always  gifted  in  powers  of 
expression,  his  language  now  was  so  rich 
and  tender  as  to  seem  unearthly.  "  Visions 
from  the   Apocalypse  have   been  in   my 


102        FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

miDcl,"  he  said  at  one  time,  as  he  roused 
from  a  deep  reverie  ;  and  it  was  not  only 
he  whose  vision  was  lifted  to  see  widely 
and  deeply  as  he  stood  upon  the  margin 
of  the  two  worlds,  but  he  also  spoke 
with  the  glory  of  those  visions  filling  his 
thought,  and  we  who  listened,  shared  the 
richness  of  his  last  earthly  experiences. 

Frederick  passed  on  into  the  life  eternal 
just  as  he  had  lived — buoyant,  courageous, 
faithful,  trusting.  He  had  never  talked 
much  about  death  ;  for  he  was  too  vital, 
too  intensely  interested  in  the  work  of  life 
to  dwell  upon  the  accidental  fact  of  bodily 
death.  He  had  made  it  his  business  to  do 
each  duty  as  it  came,  heartily  and  ear- 
nestly, so  that  the  only  preparation  he  had 
made  for  dying  was  that  he  had  lived  a 
life  of  eager,  faithful  service  to  God  —  the 
only  preparation  that  has  the  promise 
of  issuing  by  an  "abundant  entrance," 
through  the  gates,  into  the  city  of  God. 
The  testimony  that  he  left  behind  him,  as 
he  passed  through  "the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,"  is,  that  he  found  the 
"  Mount  of  God  "  widening  down  into  that 
valley.     The  shadows  were  all  scattered  by 


THE   FINAL   CALL.  103 

the  liofht  of  Him  who  came  down  to  meet 
the  faithful  pilgrim  at  that  last  step  of  his 
earthly  journey,  and  led  him  up  the  celes- 
tial heights  with  "  songs  and  everlasting 
joy"  upon  his  lips. 

"Plant  me  on  the  hill-side,  in  the  field 
of  my  labors  "  —  were  his  words  in  refer- 
ence to  his  last  resting-place.  He  wished 
his  dust  to  repose  where  he  had  so  often 
stood,  in  the  centre  of  Worthington  parish. 
So  we  bore  his  ashes  back  along  the 
road  his  feet  had  so  often  trodden,  to  the 
quiet  church-yard,  on  the  hills.  The 
golden-rod  and  the  crimson  branches  of 
the  maples,  in  their  autumnal  glory, 
seemed  to  wave  their  appropriate  salutes, 
as  the  funeral  procession  moved  over  the 
hills  and  valleys,  from  Amherst  to  Worth- 
ington ;  for  we  were  thinking  of  the 
triumphs  into  which  another  Christian 
soul  had  entered,  and  not  of  the  de- 
feats which  death  only  appeared  to  have 
wrought. 

"  No  black  !  nothing  but  flowers  "  — 
was  his  injunction  respecting  his  burial ; 
and  the  place  of  repose  for  the  sacred  dust 
was  made  soft  and  fragrant  with  evergreen 


104        FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

and  blossoms.  Multitudes  of  flowers  re- 
flected, even  about  the  grave,  his  own 
radiant  hope  of  immortality. 

I  write  these  last  memorial  words  as  we 
sail  the  great  Atlantic,  our  good  ship  bear- 
ing us  steadily  on,  through  storm  and 
billows,  toward  our  desired  haven  —  home 
and  native  land.  And  the  gladness  we 
feel,  as  the  dear  shores  come  nearer  and 
nearer,  is  only  a  faint  type  of  the  deeper 
joy  that  wells  up  through  an  old  and  un- 
forgotten  grief,  that  in  God's  good  time  all 
we  who  have  known  and  loved  Frederick, 
as  aftectionate  son  and  brother,  faithful 
and  gifted  minister,  teacher,  friend,  and 
Christian  man,  will,  if  true  to  the  gospel 
he  lived  and  preached,  stand  with  him 
a«-ain  in  everlasting  companionship,  in  the 
Land  beyond  the  Flood. 


FUNERAL   ADDRESS 


AND 


OTHER    TRIBUTES. 


The  tender  and  comforting  address  which  | 
follows  was  delivered  at  the  funeral  services 

held  in  the  Worthington  Church,  Friday  after-  i 

noon,  Sept.  7,  1888.  ^ 


FUNERAL  ADDRESS. 


DELIVERED  BT 


REV.  J.  L.  JENKINS,  D.  D.,  OF  PITTSFIELD. 


The  Scripture  words  which  best  express 
myself,  as  I  stand  here  before  you  and  the 
lifeless  body  of  your  friend,  are  St.  Paul's 
words  :  "  We  know  in  part  —  we  prophesy 
in  part."  —  "We  see  through  a  glass 
darkly."  These  words  say  what  I  feel. 
I  am  not  wise  enough  to  tell  the  meaning 
of  the  event  which  has  brought  us  to- 
gether. Once,  on  occasions  like  this,  the 
speaker  was  expected  to  state  with  ful 
ness  and  exactness  the  mind  of  God  re- 
specting the  death  in  commemoration.  He 
was  supposed  to  be  familiar  with  the  secret 
counsels  of  the  Most  High,  and  to  be  able 
to  interpret  them  to  such  as  knew  less 
than  he.  I  am  here  to  do  no  service  of 
the  kind.  I  have  no  knowledge  others 
have  not.     Existence  is  no  less  perplexing 


108        FREDERICK   SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

to  me  than  to  others.  Human  life  and 
being  are  deep  mysteries  to  me  as  to 
others.  Much  happening  here  is  as 
strange,  inexplicable  to  me  as  to  others. 
What  could  be  more  presumptuous  than 
for  me  to  attempt  to  give  God's  reasons 
for  taking  away  a  young,  well-furnished 
workman  from  the  very  work  we  believe 
God  wants  done  in  our  world?  Of  such 
an  event  it  is  true  we  know  only  in  part. 
If  we  speak  of  it,  we  speak  partially.  If 
we  look  at  it,  fix  our  vision  long  upon  it, 
we  see  nothing  clearly.  We  look  through 
a  glass  darkly.  "God,"  said  Cowper,  "is 
His  own  interpreter,"  and  of  such  an  event 
as  that  which  gathers  us  here.  He  and  He 
only  can  be  interpreter.  Avowing  igno- 
rance thus  fully  and  frankly,  I  do  not 
despair  of  saying  words  that  may  comfort 
all  our  hearts. 

The  most  comforting  word  I  can  say, 
the  most  comforting  word  as  I  conceive 
possible,  is  announcement  of  the  fact  that 
God  is.  Somewhere  is  intelligence,  wis- 
dom, might,  adequate  to  produce  and 
manage  this  vast,  complicated,  unknown 
universe.    It  is  not  without  direction,  con- 


FUNERAL  ADDRESS.  109 


trol ;  a  wild,  unguided  force  is  not  propel- 
ling it.  God  is,  and  he  is  what  men  have 
found  him  —  a  refuge.  We  betake  our- 
selves to  Him,  for  He  only  is  sufficient  for 
us,  when  earth  is  removed  and  firm  moun- 
tains are  cast  into  the  sea.  Our  only 
refuse  is  God.  We  are  in  the  storm  now 
upon  us  not  refugeless.  We  can  go  where 
is  security  —  to  God.  What  a  word  of 
comfort  I     God  is,  and  He  is  a  refuge. 

Here  is  a  comforting  word  I  am  glad  to 
speak.  The  habit  has  been  to  call  death, 
man's  enemy,  his  last  great  enemy.  The 
saying  has  been  supposed  to  have  scrip- 
tural warrant.  Much  in  Scripture  is  called 
death  that  is  not  physical  death.  Man  is 
not  a  creature  hurt  by  the  inaction  of  lungs 
and  heart.  Sin,  and  it  only,  is  foe  and 
enemy  of  man.  Hence,  Jesus'  deliverance 
is  deliverance  from  sin,  not  from  dying. 
This  last  is  a  divine  ordinance  —  a  law  not 
to  be  destroyed,  a  law  too  that  is  good, 
only  good.  A  word  of  Jesus  and  a 
most  enlightening  and  comforting  word  is, 
"  Except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the 
ground  and  die  it  abideth  alone,  but  if  it 
die,  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit." 


110        FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

Death  is  condition  of  enlargement  and 
gain.  It  leads  to  the  better,  even  as  St. 
Paul  said,  "  Flesh  and  blood  cannot  inherit 
the  Kingdom  of  God."  To  get  possession 
of  it,  flesh  and  blood  must  be  given  up. 
This  I  call  a  comforting  truth.  God  is 
wise.  Dying  is  a  wise  ordinance.  It  is 
not  essentially  destructive  —  not  hurtful. 
It  is  a  means,  not  an  end.  It  is  a  way  to 
better  things.  To  die  is  gain.  Every- 
where all  gain  is  by  dying.  The  grain  of 
wheat  gains  by  dying  ;  and  man  is  of  more 
value  than  many  grains  of  wheat. 

There  is  another  comforting  thought 
I  gladly  speak.  A  brilliant  Genevese 
teacher  and  a  sufterer  writes  in  his  journal : 
"To  feel  oneself  individually  cared  for  and 
protected  by  God  gives  a  special  dignity 
and  beauty  to  life.  Monotheism  lightens 
the  struggle  for  existence."  What  words 
for  us  men  approach  in  value  those  of 
Jesus  about  God's  care  of  fowls  and  grass  ? 
There  is  no  one  so  lowly  that  God's  care 
extends  not  to  him.  If  He  brings  one  into 
our  world.  He  will  care  for  him  while  in  it, 
and  arrange  for  his  leaving  it.  None  ever 
dies  before  his  time.     "Mine  hour,"  said 


FUNERAL  ADDREvSS.  Ill 

Jesus,  "  is  not  yet  come."  When  it  came, 
he  died  ;  so  also  do  we.  Mr.  Huntington's 
death  is  not  an  untimely  one,  but  a  most 
timely  one.     His  hour  came,  and  he  passed 

on  and  up. 

There  is  yet  another  comforting  thought 
and  a  thought  according  with  many  recent 
words  of  science.  There  are  grades  of 
existence.  Mankind  has  passed  through 
many,  —  has  left  caves  and  stone  tools  for 
houses  and  metal  implements,  skins  of 
animals  for  better  clothes.  We  may  know 
little  of  the  life  succeeding  the  present  life. 
It  may  not  be  possible  for  us  to  know 
much  of  it,  but  it  is  an  advance.  We  are 
being  taught,  too,  that  personality  endures 
in  the  change  from  a  lower  grade  of  being 
to  a  higher.  All  this  accords  with  the 
laro^e  teachino-  of  Him  who  brought  life 
and  immortality  to  light.  He  came  to 
power  by  going  hence,  and  men  do  the 
same. 

Many  deplore  much  of  the  thought  of 
the  present  time;  but  taking  it  all  in  all, 
it  is  working  good.  It  is  scattering  dark- 
ness, carrying  off  superstitions  and  crude 
ideas.     Death  is  being  understood,  better 


112        FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

understood.  Its  terror  is  being  taken 
from  it.  The  wisdom  and  love  of  God 
are  being  found  in  it.  If  we  cannot  with 
the  poet  call  death  beauteous,  we  can  call 
it  beneficent,  and  cease  excessively  to 
dread  it. 

I  have  said  general  things  ;  let  me  come 
to  particulars.  Others  at  a  fit  time  will 
speak  of  Mr.  Huntington's  gifts  and  graces, 
of  what  he  did,  of  what  he  was.  Let  my 
word  be  as  to  the  use  he  put  himself  to, 
and  if  I  highly  exalt  it,  let  it  not  be  thought 
I  disparage  any  worthy  use  one  makes  of 
oneself.  The  world  is  large  and  complex, 
needs  work  of  many  kinds. 

The  kingdom  of  God  needs  numerous 
and  various  workmen.  Just  now  we  are 
having  many  workmen  of  a  single  kind. 
There  are  many  who  in  various  ways 
are  developing  and  increasing  material 
resources.  Ours  is  the  age  of  trade,  of 
business.  Here  are  the  rewards  that 
tempt.  Here  multitudes  find  field  for  en- 
ergy, and  here  they  spend  it.  It  is  some- 
thing for  a  gifted  young  man  to  turn  from 
all  this  and  sfive  himself  to  work  for  the 
spiritual  well-being  of  his  fellows.     I  use 


FUNERAL   ADDRESS.  113 

the  term  spiritual  in  a  large  sense,  cover- 
ing morals,  intellectuality,  and  religion. 
It  is  asking  much  of  a  young  man  that  he 
devote  himself  to  such  a  task,  but  it  is 
asking  what  is  nol)le,  most  fruitful,  and 
most  rewarding.  Not  yet  have  been  ex- 
hausted the  siiinificance  and  virtue  of  the 
fact  that  Jesus  Christ  gave  himself  to 
spiritual  uses.  It  was  His  to  develop  what 
was  in  man,  not  what  was  without  him ; 
and  the  world,  busy  seeking  the  things  of 
the  world,  allows  to  Him  the  greatest 
power  and  influence  won  by  any  actor  in 
it.  Not  they  who  gather  riches  but  they 
who  phmt  ideas  fill  thrones.  The  man 
who  has  passed  from  us  and  whom  we 
honor  to-day,  was  of  this  order.  In  the 
community  he  sought  not  material  riches, 
but  true  riches.  He  worked  in  a  free, 
generous  way  for  souls.  He  sought  first 
the  kinofdom  of  God.  Work  of  this  kind 
has  a  peculiar  quality.  By  it  a  man  trans- 
fers the  virtue  in  him  to  others.  He  in- 
oculates a  whole  community,  he  incarnates 
himself  in  the  life  of  a  place.  What  higher 
use  of  a  man's  powers  is  possible  !  Our 
friend  made  the  best  use  of  himself.    What 


114   FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

was  in  him  yielded  much  for  his  fellows, 
and  his  works  remain  and  will  continue 
to  bless  the  world.  Whence  came  the  in- 
spiration of  such  a  life?  It  could  come 
but  from  one  source.  It  came  from  Him 
who  is  taking  possession  of  men  the  world 
over,  imparting  His  mind  and  tempting 
them  into  careers  like  His.  It  was  not 
the  example  of  Jesus  alone  that  was  pow- 
erful with  our  friend.  The  life  also  of 
Jesus  was  manifest  in  him.  Because  of 
this  there  remains  for  us  the  glad  certainty 
that  as  he  lived  Christ's  life  on  the  earth, 
he  lives  the  same  now,  and  that  where 
Christ  is,  there  he  is  also. 

Contemplating  the  earthly  life  that  is 
ended,  do  we  not  find  all  possible  com- 
fort? We  will  not  repress  our  natural, 
heartfelt  sorrow,  our  instinctive  and  sin- 
cere tears,  but  certainly  we  are  not  com- 
fortless. It  may  well  quiet  and  soften  the 
sorrow  of  the  family,  that  out  of  its  num- 
ber came  so  helpful  and  successful  a 
worker.  This  community  can  only  be 
thankful  for  him  and  for  what  he  wrought 
here.  His  service  for  this  town  is  not 
ended.     He  will  work  for  it  still.     Being 


FUNERAL  ADDRESS.  115 

dead,  he  yet  speaks.     Having  been  lifted 
up,  he   must   draw  others  upward.     His 
life   is    safely  garnered,  funded,  and  will 
yield  fruit  still.     I  do  not  ask  that  he  be 
remembered.     He  is  of  the  righteous  who 
are  sure  of  everhisting  remembrance — 1 
only  ask  that  all  who  knew  him  learn  the 
secret  of  his  life.     For  him  we  have  no 
tears.     We  say  of  him,  "He  did  well,  he 
was    a    faithful    servant."     His  Lord    has 
said  the  same,  and    more  — bidding  him 
enter  into  His  joy.     And  who   would  call 
him  thence  ?     There  let  him  abide.    There 
let  his  life  enlarge  and  beautify.     Let  him 
be  forever  with  the  Lord  ! 


TRIBUTE  OF  THE  HAMPSHIRE 
CONFERENCE. 

At  the  late  Conference  in  William sburgh,  the 
following  resolutions  were  passed,  viz.:  — 

Whereas  it  has  pleased  the  Great  Head  of 
the  Church  to  take  home  to  himself  our  dear 
brother,  Rev.  Frederick  S.  Huntington,  late  pas- 
tor of  the  church  in  Worthington;  therefore, 

Resolved,  That  we  hereby  record  our  sense  of 
great  personal  and  general  loss  in  the  sudden 
removal  of  one  whose  work  had  already  proved 
his  eminent  ability  to  win  the  love  and  confidence 
of  men,  and  to  serve  the  cause  of  his  Master. 

Besolved,  That  we  tender  our  hearty  sympathy 
to  the  family  thus  spoiled  of  one  of  its  bright 
ornaments;  to  the  church  in  Worthington  which 
he  had  served  so  well;  and  to  the  church  in  Indi- 
anapolis, whose  hope  of  large  blessing  through 
him  in  the  near  future  has  been  suddenly  cut  off. 

Resolved,  That  for  ourselves,  we  humbly  re- 
ceive the  loss  of  this  genial  and  gifted  brother 
as  a  loving  admonition  to  use  like  diligence  and 
joyous  fidelity  in  the  good  work  of  the  gospel, 
not  knowing  the  day  nor  the  hour  when  the  Son 

of  Man  Cometh. 

Signed  by 

Rev.  Elihtj  Loomis. 
Rev.  E.  G.  Cobb. 
C.  D.  Wait. 

S.   E.    BRIDGMAN, 
Scribe  Hampshire  Conference. 

Northampton,  Mass.,  Nov.  2, 1888. 


resolutio:n's  passed  by  the  worth- 
ington  library  association. 

Since  its  last  meeting  this  association  has  been 
called  to  mourn  the  loss,  by  death,  of  the  Rev. 
F.  S.  Huntington,  its  founder,  and  its  most  effi- 
cient promoter.  To  us,  his  associates  in  this 
organization,  this  loss  brings  a  profound  personal 
sorrow,  and  to  the  project  itself  it  is  a  loss  to 
be  deeply  deplored. 

In  promoting  the  spiritual  growth  of  this  com- 
munity, which  our  lamented  friend  ever  kept  in 
view,  and  made  supreme  in  his  beneficent  activ- 
ities, he  felt  the  value  of  general  culture  as  a 
means  of  stimulating  and  enlarging  the  spiritual 
faculties,  and  to  this  end  he  looked  upon  this 
institution  as  an  important  aid  in  the  greater 
work  to  which  his  life  was  so  earnestly  devoted. 

In  view  of  the  deep  interest  he  felt  in  this 
branch  of  his  work,  and  the  high  anticipations 
he  entertained  of  its  usefulness,  be  it 

Resolved^  That  we,  his  associates  in  this  enter- 
prise, feel  that  we  can  in  no  way  more  truly 
cherish  and  honor  his  memory  than  by  pledging 
ourselves,  which  we  hereby  do,  to  use  our  best 
efforts  to  sustain  this  public  library,  and  to 
broaden  its  influence,  to  the  end  that  it  may  ful- 
fil the  hopes  of  him  to  whose  zeal  and  energy  it 
owes  its  existence. 

Resolved,  That  these  proceedings  be  entered 
in  full  upon  our  minutes,  and  a  copy  of  them  be 
sent  to  Mr.  Huntington's  family. 

By  order  of  the  Worthington  Library  Asso- 
ciation. WILLIAM  A.    RICE, 

DWIGHT  STOKE, 
N.   S.   HEACOCK, 

Committee, 
Worthington,  Oct.  31, 1888. 


MINUTE     RECORDED     BY     THE     MAY- 
FLOWER CHURCH,  INDIANAPOLIS. 

At  a  meeting  of  Mayflower  Church  the  fol- 
lowing minute  was  ordered  to  be  placed  upon 
the  church  records:  — 

This  church  has  been  deeply  afflicted  by  the 
sudden  death  of  the  late  Frederick  S.  Hunting- 
ton, its  pastor  elect.     Only  a  few  days  previous 
to  his  expected  arrival  to  enter  upon  his  work 
among  us,  he  fell  a  victim  to  an  attack  of  malig- 
nant typhoid  fever.     Mr.  Huntington's  rare  in- 
tellectual gifts,  his  beautiful  Christian  character, 
his  devotion  to  his  sacred  calling,  certified  to  in 
warmest  terms  by  all  who  knew  him,  gave  prom- 
ise of  a  most  useful  and  successful  ministry,  and 
had  awakened  high  hopes  of  a  bright  future  for 
this  church.     Our  acquaintance  with  him  was 
slight,  yet  it  was  sufficient  to  reveal  his  charm- 
ing qualities  of  mind  and  heart.     Indeed,  he  had 
already  won,  in  a  large  degree,  the  affection  and 
respect  of  his  future  charge.     We  lament  his 
death   as   a  personal   loss;    we   share   with  his 
afflicted  relatives  the  sorrow  of  the  mysterious 
dispensation   which   takes   from    earth    one    so 
dearly  beloved.     His  nearest  friends  have  our 
heartfelt  sympathy. 

We  are  comforted  in  this  affliction,  as  all  who 
loved  him  must  be,  in  the  memory  of  his  bright 
example  of  a  happy,  devoted  Christian  life;  we 
rejoice  in  the  peace  and  triumph  of  his  death, 
which  he  welcomed  as  a  summons  to  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Saviour  whom  he  had  so  faithfully 
served. 


OCCASIONAL  HYMNS. 


The  hymns  which  follow  were  written  by 
Frederick  for  his  own  spiritual  gratification. 
Some  of  them  were  meant  as  greetings  to  his 
parishioners  for  certain  marked  days  of  the 
Christian  year,  to  remind  them  of  the  relig- 
ious significance  of  such  "times  and  sea- 
sons "  ;  and  these  were  generally  printed  upon 
neat  cards  and  distributed  to  old  and  young. 


HYMNS. 


CONSECRATION. 

I  have  touched  the  heart  of  Jesus, 
I  have  felt  His  healing  breath, 

And  I  know  His  love  can  free  us 
From  the  chains  of  sin  and  death. 

Can  I  doubt  His  power  to  guide  me 
Through  the  world,  in  paths  unseen, 

Since  His  love  so  full  of  mercy 
Hath  redeemed  my  soul  from  sin? 

Never  more  my  faith  shall  falter, 
For  He  knows  and  feels  my  needs; 

With  my  will  upon  the  altar 
I  can  follow  where  He  leads. 

Oh!  the  fulness  of  God's  favor 
With  my  hand  thus  clasped  in  His! 

He  is  Lord,  and  King,  and  Saviour; 
All  my  life  shall  speak  His  praise. 

If  I  choose  this  Heavenly  Leader 
All  my  sorrow  turns  to  joy, 

While  the  path  of  Ufe  grows  sweeter. 
And  my  trust  hath  no  alloy. 

Allston,  April,  1883. 


122        FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 


THORI^  AND  THROKE. 

The  vision  of  Thy  patience,  Master,  moves  me. 

Hold  Thou  my  hand,  while  tears  my  eyelids 

steep. 

The  plaited  thorns   that  pierced   and   wounded 

Thee, 

Temper  my  heart  for  worship  pure  and  deep. 

Oh!  not  alone  the  crimson  points  have  told 
How  measureless  Thy  sacrificial  pains; 

Sins  cherished,  pierce  and  wound  Thee  as  of  old. 
The  thrusts  of  wrong  make  still  the  deepest 
stains. 

Hast  Thou  not  borne  enough  our  hearts  to  claim? 

Has  love  divine  no  end  nor  wearying? 
Burn  not  men's  souls   at  length  with  mercy's 
flame? 

Does  not  Thy  lasting  love  hell's  anguish  bring? 

In  garments  stained  come  forth  all-conqueriug! 

These  flinty  gates  of  my  resistful  keeping 
Break  down,  and  cease  to-day  Thy  patient  knock- 
ing ; 
While  bowed  in   grief  for  sin  find  Thou  me 
weeping. 

Thou  Eesurrection  Light,  shine  on  me  now! 
And  through  my   blinding  tears  grant  Thine 
appearing. 
The  thorns  we  press  against  Thy  suffering  brow 
Must  surely  change  at  last  to  throne  —  Christ- 
bearing. 

Palm  Sunday,  Amherst,  1884. 


HYMNS.  123 


THE   FEAST   OF   LIFE. 

Earth  is  made  jubilant, 
Oh!  sinsr  at  her  feast. 

Come!  O  ye  suppliant, 
Behold  your  High  Priest. 

See!    Death  is  defeated, 

For  Jesus  is  risen  I 
These  tidings  repeated 

AVill  shake  every  prison. 

Disciple  once  faithful, 
Why  wait  at  the  grave. 

Astonished,  regretful, 
To  doubts  made  a  slave  ? 

The  grave  has  no  conquests; 

Death  loses  its  sting  ; 
God,  reaping  the  harvests. 

His  children  will  bring. 

Christ's  life  of  redemption 
Makes  shameful  our  strife. 

His  sure  resurrection 
Gives  promise  of  life. 

Sound  forth  Hallelujahs, 
Life  Cometh  to  light. 

As  once  more  among  us 
He  walketh  in  might. 

No  cloud  of  ascension, 
No  change  or  decay, 

Not  earth,  hell,  or  heaven 
Can  hide  us  away. 


124    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

No  fear  now  remaiueth 
To  them  that  believe. 

Christ  liveth  and  reigneth, 
Our  faith  to  receive. 

All  praise,  then,  and  glory 
Ascribe  to  His  name, 

Eepeating  the  storj^, 
Through  ages  the  same. 

Easter,  April,  1884. 


SUPPLICATION. 

My  heart  is  tired  from  aching  needs, 

My  soul's  deep  thirst  still  lasts, 
Why  linger  we  when  Jesus  feeds. 

And  waits  to  end  our  fasts  ? 

I  reach  toward  Thee  my  trembUng  hand. 

My  countless  wants  supply!  j 

Thy  cleansing  power  wilt  Thou  command  ] 

To  keep  me  till  I  die.  , 

i 
I  seek  Thee,  God,  by  better  sense  i 

Than  that  of  touch  or  sight.  j 

My  halting  steps  must  give  offence  j 

To  Thee  whose  life  is  light.  I 

My  rest  in  God  I  find  complete.  \ 

My  sins  and  griefs  so  great,  i 

Thy  sacrifice  and  love  can  meet, 

Removing  every  weight.  , 

April,  1884.  ' 


HYMNS.  125 


COMMUNION. 


Breathe  this  day  Thy  Spirit's  balm: 
Bring  this  restless  soul  a  calm. 

Freed  from  sins  I  love  no  more, 
Lord,  Thy  name  will  I  adore. 

While  I  lift  my  feeble  cry. 
Kindly  hear  the  prayer  I  sigh. 

Come  Thou  near  me  as  I  plead, 
Thou,  who  didst  for  sinners  bleed. 

Mighty  Spirit,  Son,  and  Lord, 
Trust  I  in  Thy  perfect  word. 

God,  whose  life  is  all  divine. 
Take  my  heart  and  seal  it  Thine. 

Humbly  at  Thy  feet  I  '11  kneel  ; 

Sweetly  here  Thyself  reveal. 
Softly  now  Thy  step  I  hear, 

Rise,  my  soul,  thy  Lord  is  near. 

April,  1884. 


OBEDIENCE. 

Beneath  Thy  rod,  O  Heavenly  King, 

How  sweet  obedience  is  ! 
Well  may  the  world  its  offering  bring. 

And  we  unite  in  praise. 

'T  is  love  divine  frames  Thy  command; 

Heaven's  light  is  in  Thy  face. 
In  loving  trust  before  Thee  stand 

The  suppliants  of  Thy  grace. 


126    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

How  can  we  choose  without  Thine  aid  ; 

How  shall  we  walk  alone? 
Since  all  our  pathway  Thou  has  laid 

From  earth  up  to  Thy  throne. 

Keep  near  me  in  the  midst  of  pain: 
Temptation's  fetters  break  ; 

Make  sorrows  turn  to  richest  gain, 
As  borne  for  Thine  own  sake. 

So  let  my  steps  sure  guidance  find, 
Beneath  Thy  watchful  eye. 

My  life  to  Thine  yet  closer  bind 
By  every  sacred  tie. 

Mat,  1884. 


FOR  CHILDREN'S  DAY. 

This  day  our  songs  we  bring, 
With  heart  and  voice  to  sing: 
To  worship  Him  who  from  above 
Came  down  with  God's  own  love. 

The  children  hear  His  voice. 

And  angels  do  rejoice  : 

r*)r,  once  He  taught  how  heaven  is  won 

By  trusting  in  the  Son. 

Then,  Father,  hear  our  prayer, 
And  we  will  own  Thy  care. 
And  grant  this  day  our  heart  and  mind 
To  fill  with  peace  divine. 


HYMNS.  127 


Help  us  to  rise  toward  Thee 
From  care  and  sorrow  free. 
May  worship  be  our  chief  desire 
While  songs  our  hearts  inspire. 

June,  1884. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 

Holy  Light  !  Holy  Light  ! 
Light  of  the  world's  new  day  ! 
Come  Thou  near,  through  our  night, 
Hear  us  while  now  we  pray. 
Over  the  rolling  waves  of  care 
Send  Thy  brightening  beams  afar, 
Come  from  Thy  throne  on  high  ; 
Come  Thou  silent  One,  Come  Thou  holy  One, 
Come  ! 

Peace  be  thine!     Peace  be  thine  ! 
Peace  and  good-will  be  thine  ! 
Cease  thy  tears,  I  am  near, 
Cast  away  all  thy  fear. 
Over  the  stormy  seas  I  come, 
Do  not  doubt  I  '11  guide  thee  home. 
Come  unto  Me  and  rest. 

Come  My  little    one,   Come    my   trusting  one. 
Come. 

January,  1885.  {Fo7^  the  tu7ie,  "Sweet  and  Low.") 


128    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 


IK    GETHSEMANE. 

One  hour  of  wakefulness  for  Him 

Who  bore  that  guiltless  grief, 

Disciples  could  not  keep, 

He  felt  it  all,  yet  said:  — 

"  The  spirit  wills,  while  flesh  is  weak"; 

"  Sleep  on.  and  take  your  rest." 


Not  three  times  failing  see  we  Him, 
But  three  times  proving  firm. 
The  power  to  do  God's  will. 
That  matchless  prayer  He  said  — 
"  Not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt"; 
"■  Sleep  on,  and  take  your  rest." 

They  could  not  watch,  poor  tired  men; 
Their  sleep  forbids  His  rest, 
Who  comes,  and  comes  again; 
But  says  without  rebuke  — 
"  I  drink  the  cup  my  Father  gives  " ; 
"  Sleep  on,  and  take  your  rest." 
November,  1886. 


ON  REVISITING  THE  OLD  EARM, 

1886. 

I  'm  to  visit  the  old  farm-house. 
Though  it  stands  in  another's  name; 
I  shall  find  some  things  are  changed. 
But  the  hills  will  be  there  the  same, 


HYMNS. 


129 


I  think  I  will  go  there  alone, 

I  don't  care  to  talk  on  the  way; 

I  '11  cross  from  the  road  through  the  fields, 

Beaching  there  at  the  close  of  day. 

That  '11  seem  like  the  days  when  a  boy, 
Coming  home  from  the  farther  field. 
Glad  enough  the  day's  work  was  done. 
Caring  not  what  the  ground  might  yield. 

I  '11  not  stop  for  buggy  and  horse, 
It's  only  three  miles  from  the  town; 
I  will  walk,  I  'm  not  in  a  hurry,— 
I  '11  be  there  when  the  sun  goes  down. 

Some  tell  me  I  make  a  mistake, 
That  it 's  better  to  keep  far  aw^ay, 
And  not  see  the  changes  of  years,— 
Letting  old  thoughts  and  feelings  stay. 

But  I  care  not  if  tears  do  come, 
It 's  good  for  a  strong  man  to  cry; 
It 's  a  fault  of  our  life  too  much 
That  our  eyes  are  kept  so  dry. 

I  shall  go  to  the  old  farm-house, — 
I  must  sleep  there  once  over  night, 
See  the  sun  rise  over  the  hill 
As  it  used  to,  full  and  bright; 

See  the  meadows  fresh  and  green, 
Where  my  father's  sheep  loved  to  feed; 
Find  the  tasteful  mint  in  the  lot, 
Which  was  often  mown  as  a  weed. 


130    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

I  '11  find  me  a  fish-pole  early, 
And  sit  on  the  bank  of  the  stream, 
Where  the  old  bridge  shaded  the  creek,  — 
That  will  be  like  a  pleasant  dream. 

I  think  I  shall  find  the  same  sport 
In  catching  those  spry  rock  bass, 
And  throwing  them  high  in  the  air. 
To  drop  away  out  in  the  grass. 

Half  a  day  I  must  spend  by  the  creek 
That  flows  in  its  winding  course; 
A  charm  of  the  old  farm-house, 
And  of  many  delights  the  source. 

I  've  heard  that  the  old  oaks  are  gone 
Which  grew  in  the  shady  front  yard, 
Where  many  an  afternoon  nap 
Was  indulged  on  the  soft  green  sward. 

But  the  old  elm-tree  near  the  creek, 
With  its  grace  and  its  branches  wide, 
I  shall  hope  to  see  as  of  old, 
Standi  tig  guard  by  the  river-side. 

But  of  all  the  places  most  dear, 
The  one  I  shall  visit  the  first 
Is  the  deep  old  sacred  well. 
For  my  walk  will  give  me  thirst. 

I  will  ask  for  a  dipper,  too, 

That  the  pure  sweet  water  may  taste 

As  it  used  to  years  ago. 

When  I  drank  deep  draughts  and  in  haste. 


HYMNS. 

And  then  as  the  day  wears  along, 
And  the  sun  bends  toward  the  We?t, 
I  '11  start  with  my  cane  for  the  woods, 
When  a  twilight  hour  seems  the  best. 

I  '11  listen  there  for  the  cow-bell, 
As  of  old  when  a  frightened  boy; 
There,  alone  in  the  dark,  deep  woods, 
How  that  tinkling  bell  gave  joy! 

I  will  watch  as  the  sun  declines. 
The  light  as  it  creeps  up  the  hill; 
And  then  as  it  brightens  the  clouds. 
Bringing  evening  tender  and  still. 

I  know  then  my  mind  will  be  full 
Of  memories  sacred  and  blest, 
Por  how  can  I  keep  back  the  thoughts 
Which  a  twilight  there  must  suggest? 

As  the  evening  stars  shall  appear. 
Coming  forth  like  a  mighty  troop, 
How  faces  of  loved  ones  will  come, 
Making  heavenly  group  upon  group  ! 

One  day  I  will  spend  at  the  farm, 
Not  longer,  for  one  day  will  do; 
And  the  work  of  life  is  pressing, 
By  and  by  we  shall  all  be  through. 


131 


'TREES   OF  THE    KINGDOM." 


SERMONS  TO  YOUNG  MEN 


One  of  Frederick's  last  wishes  was  that  the 
following  sermons,  which  he  had  preached  as 
a  series  especially  designed  for  young  men, 
might  be  printed  and  left  as  a  memorial  among 
those  to  whom  he  had  ministered. 


THE  TREE    OF   SEARCH. 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Before  that 
Philip  called  thee,  when  thou  wast  under  the  fig- 
tree,  I  saw  thee.  —  John  i.  48. 

It  is  interestino-  to  find  so  much  of  the 
world's    religion    Jind  life  associated  with 
trees.     Something,    perhaps,    in    the    up- 
ward, aspiring  growth  of  the  tree,  in  its 
o-radual  development  and  tardy  maturing ; 
something  in  its  uncertainty  of  life  ;  some- 
thing in  its  power  of  influence,  its  use  of 
the  airy  and  the  earthy  worlds  ;  something 
in  its  fast  hold  of  this  world,  and  in  its 
dependence    upon    another  world ;    some- 
thing in  its  alternate  action  and  repose,  in 
the  variety  of  use,  texture,  color,  size,  and 
ghape,  —  makes  the  world  of  trees,  like  the 
world    of   human    beings,  interesting  and 
suo-irestive  to  our   thought.     Human    life 
seems  to  have  begun  in  this  world  m  the 
midst    of    trees,    under    the    shadow    of 
branches  well  laden  with  fruit,  which  even 
tempted  to  disobedience  our  first  parents. 


136    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

"And  out  of  the  ground  made  the  Lord 
God  to  grow  every  tree  that  is  pleasant  to 
the  sight,  and  good  for  food  ;  the  tree  of 
life  also  in  the  midst  of  the  garden,  and 
the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil." 
The  stories  of  spiritual  death  and  spiritual 
life  are  interwoven  with  the  branches  of 
trees.  The  laws  of  the  Hebrew  nation 
recognized  the  value  of  trees,  and  guarded 
them  against  the  wasting  axe.  "  When 
thou  shalt  besiege  a  city  a  long  time  in 
making  war  against  it,  to  take  it,  thou 
shalt  not  destroy  the  trees  thereof  by  forc- 
ing an  axe  against  them  :  for  thou  may- 
est  eat  of  them,  and  thou  shalt  not  cut 
them  down,  for  the  tree  of  the  field  is 
man's  life."  This  was  certainly  a  law,  the 
spirit  of  which  might  well  be  revived  in 
our  own  communities.  It  is  well  estab- 
lished by  scientific  investigations  that  the 
fall  of  water  in  many  regions  is  affected  by 
the  presence  or  absence  of  trees.  Cut 
away  the  forests  of  a  region,  and  the  rain- 
fall is  diminished ;  "  the  tree  of  the  field 
is  man's  life."  The  Scriptures  also  abound 
in  passages  which  show  how  groves  of 
trees  were  the  places  of  worship,  and  the 


THE    TREE    OF    SEARCH.  187 

trees  themselves  were  carved  into  gods  and 
worshipped.  Kings  were  crowned  in  the 
midst  of  forests  whose  lofty,  stalwart 
trunks  made  fitting  emblems  of  a  mon- 
arch's power.  "And  all  the  men  of  She- 
chem  assenibled  themselves  together,  and 
all  the  house  of  Millo,  and  went  and  made 
Abimelcch  king,  by  the  oak  of  the  pillar 
that  was  in  Shechem."  Almost  every 
attribute  of  man  is  ascribed  in  Scripture 
to  trees.  They  are  represented  as  walking, 
speaking,  and  ruling,  as  in  this  parable  : 
"The  trees  went  forth  on  a  time  to  anoint 
a  king  over  them ;  and  they  said  unto 
the  olive-tree,  'Reign  thou  over  us.'  But 
the  olive-tree  said  unto  them,  'Should 
I  leave  my  fatness  wherewith  by  use 
they  honor  God  and  man,  and  go  to 
wave  to  and  fro  over  the  trees  ? '  And  the 
trees  said  to  the  fig-tree,  'Come,  thou, 
and  reign  over  us.'  But  the  fig-tree  said 
unto  them,  'Should  I  leave  my  sweetness, 
and  my  good  fruit,  and  go  to  wave  to  and 
fro  over  the  trees?'  And  the  trees  said 
unto  the  vine, '  Come,  thou,  and  reign  over 
us.'  And  the  vine  said  unto  them,  'Should 
I  leave  my  wine,  which  cheereth  God  and 


138    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

man,  and  go  to  wave  to  and  fro  over  the 
trees?'  Then  said  all  the  trees  unto  the 
bramble,  '  Come,  thou,  and  reign  over  us.' 
And  the  bramble  said  unto  the  trees,  'If, 
in  truth,  ye  anoint  me  king  over  you,  then 
come  and  put  your  trust  in  my  shadow  ; 
and  if  not,  let  fire  come  out  of  the  bram- 
ble and  devour  the  cedars  of  Lebanon.*" 
Praise,  and  even  worship,  are  attributed 
to  trees,  as  the  psalmist  declares  :  "  Fruit- 
ful trees  and  all  cedars  praise  the  name 
of  the  Lord."  "The  trees  of  the  fields 
shall  clap  their  hands."  The  prophet 
Ezekiel,  in  speaking  of  the  greatness 
of  the  Assyrian  monarch,  says  :  "He  was 
a  cedar  in  Lebanon  with  fair  branches, 
and  with  a  shadowing  shroud,  and  of  an 
high  stature,  and  his  top  was  among  the 
thick  boughs.  Thy  waters  made  him  great, 
the  deep  set  him  up  on  high  with  her  rivers 
running  round  about  his  plants,  and  sent 
out  her  little  rivers  unto  all  the  trees  of 
the  field.  Therefore,  his  height  was  ex- 
alted above  all  the  trees  of  the  field, 
and  his  boughs  were  multiplied,  and  his 
branches  became  long  because  of  the  mul- 
titude of  waters  when  he  shot  forth.     All 


THE    TREE    OF    SEARCH.  139 

the  fowls  of  heaven  made  their  nests  in  his 
bousrhs,  and  under  his  branches  did  all  the 
beasts  of  the  field  bring  forth  their  young, 
and  under  his  shadow  dwelt  all  great 
nations.  Thus  was  he  fair  in  his  greatness, 
in  the  length  of  his  branches,  for  his  root 
was  by  great  waters.  The  cedars  in  the 
irarden  of  God  could  not  hide  him  ;  the 
fir-trees  were  not  like  his  boughs,  and  the 
chestnut-trees  were  not  like  his  branches, 
nor  any  tree  in  the  garden  of  God  was 
like  unto  him  in  his  beauty.  I  have  made 
him  fair  by  the  multitude  of  his  branches  ; 
so  that  all  the  trees  of  Eden  that  were  in 
the  orarden  of  God  envied  him." 

Thus  we  see  how  the  passions  and  hopes, 
the  powers  and  capacities  of  man,  are  at- 
tributed often  in  Scripture  to  the  tree ; 
the  growth  and  qualities  of  the  gigantic 
cedar  are  made  into  parable  of  poetic 
splendor  describing  the  mighty  Assyrian 
conqueror  and  his  kingdom.  Not  alone  in 
Hebrew  thought  is  the  tree  ])rought  into 
these  hisfh  associations  with  human  life  and 
destiny,  but  the  traditions  and  sacred  lore 
of  all  great  civilizations  give  to  the  tree  a 
significance   and   regard  which   are   truly 


140         FREDERICK    SARGENT    HUNTINGTON. 

fascinating,    and  open   an   attractive   field 
of  comparative  study  and  research. 

There  are  trees  mentioned  in  the  New 
Testament  which  are  significant,  not  so 
much  on  account  of  their  own  worth  or 
definite  location,  as  by  reason  of  their 
association  with  some  of  the  chief  facts 
and  lessons  in  the  mission  and  ministry  of 
our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  The 
fio--tree,  in  the  shade  of  which  Nathanael 
was  studying,  when  Jesus,  a  long  way  off, 
saw  him  in  his  doubts  and  needs,  —  this 
tree  where  Nathanael  was  searching  for  the 
Messiah  while  the  Messiah  was  searching 
for  him,  —  is  laden  with  spiritual  fruit  for 
all  earnest  hearts.  Let  us  linger  beside 
this  tree  of  search, 

Christ  seeking  for  men,  and  men  seeking 
for  Christ,  is  the  very  first  truth  of  the  Gos- 
pel. The  lonely  retreat  which  Nathanael 
had  chosen  for  his  meditations  —  the  deep 
shade  of  a  fig-tree  —  is  quite  suggestive  of 
these  solitary,  shadowy  hours  of  our  own 
anxious  inquiries  after  the  Saviour.  With 
Nathanael,  we  are  all  prone  to  allow  our 
deepest  anxieties  and  heaviest  burdens  to 
take  us  away  into  loneliness  and  shadowy 


THE    TREE    OF    SEARCH.  141 

doubts,  just  when  we  need  most  the  coun- 
sel and  help  of  those  who  have  ah-eady 
made  the  great  discovery  of  a  personal 
friend  in  Jesus  Christ. 

No  one  can  tell  from  the  narrative  what 
it  was  that  was  occupying  the  mind  of 
Nathanael  while  under  the  fig-tree  ;  but 
the  first  salutation  of  Philip,  who  came  to 
find  his  friend,  indicates  that  they  had  been 
companions  in  a  common  search  after  the 
Messiah.  "  We  have  found  Him  of  whom 
Moses  in  the  law  and  the  prophets  did 
write, — Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  son  of 
Joseph."  There  is  surely  the  tone  of 
exultation  in  this  language,  such  as  one 
uses  to  express  the  feeling  of  triumph 
after  a  lonsr,  anxious  search  for  something- 
very  precious.  We  cannot  tell  how  often 
these  two  thoughtful  and  noble-spirited 
Israelites,  Philip  and  Nathanael,  had  read 
together  the  Hebrew  prophecies,  and  had 
compared  them  with  the  signs  of  their 
times,  to  see  if  they  could  fairly  hope  to 
witness  the  fulfilment  of  the  promises  of  a 
Redeemer.  Our  introduction  to  Nathan- 
ael is  to  one  who  is  aU'eady  guileless  even 
in  the  eyes   of  Christ,  one   of  the   true 


142    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

Israelites  indeed,  who  had  lived  a  clean, 
upright,  religious  life.  We  are  so  usually 
given  to  the  study  of  Christ's  dealings 
with  very  sinful  men,  and  His  salvation  is 
so  commonly  thought  of  as  the  glad  por- 
tion for  the  wretched  and  the  base,  that 
we  are  almost  puzzled  to  see  Jesus  meet 
one  and  speak  of  him  as  guileless,  —  as 
"an  Israelite  indeed." 

Nathanael  may  have  been  somewhat 
narrow  in  his  views,  having  some  of  the 
national  spirit  of  exclusiveness  and  class 
prejudice ;  in  fact,  we  see  that  he  was 
tainted  with  these  Jewish  characteristics 
from  his  reply  to  his  friend  Philip,  when 
told  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  the  true 
Messiah.  Nathanael  felt  a  revulsion  at 
the  thought  that  hateful  Nazareth  should 
be  the  home  of  the  great  Messiah.  Still, 
Chi'ist,  who  was  ready,  as  He  ever  is,  to  be 
just,  saw  that  he  was  an  honest  seeker 
after  the  Messiah  ;  that  he  vvas  guileless, 
and  had  used  all  the  light  given  him  in  an 
earnest  purpose  to  gain  a  true  knowledge 
of  the  expected  Christ,  the  new  King  of 
Israel . 

It  requires    no   strenuous  argument  to 


THE   TREE    OF    SEARCH.  143 

bring  the  conviction  to  any  thoughtful  per- 
son that  a  great  thing  has  been  accom- 
plished in  any  soul  when  its  love  and 
devotion  to  sin  cease,  and  Christ  is  ac- 
cepted as  Saviour  and  Lord.  The  most 
arrant  vagabond  feels  a  higher  regard  for 
the  man  who  is  trying  to  walk  with  Christ 
than  for  the  man  who  has  no  purpose,  no 
fellowship  for  Christ.  Every  one  in  a 
community  feels  glad  to  have  a  Church  of 
living,  faithful  Christians,  rather  than  a 
godless  rabble.  All  agree  that  Christ's 
great  mission  was  to  call  "not  the  right- 
eous but  sinners  to  repentance."  The 
world  at  large  is  so  sinful,  so  few  can 
possibly  feel  that  they  are  too  righteous 
to  have  an  interest  in  the  mission  of  Jesus 
as  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  that  we  are  not 
often  met  by  those  who  feel  that  there  is 
nothing  to  be  gained  by  going  with 
Nathanael  to  speak  with  Christ.  His 
doubts,  expressed  to  Philip,  we  remember, 
did  not  indicate  a  lack  of  interest  in  find- 
ing Christ,  but  rather  his  surprise  that 
Jesus  could  be  the  long-expected  Messiah. 
It  must  be  that  Nathanael,  however  guile- 
less and  good  he  was,  felt  there  was  much 


144    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

for  bim  to  gain  if  be  could  really  meet  tbe 
Cbrist.  It  would  be  well,  too,  if  tbis  deep 
conviction  of  all  uprigbt,  noble  men,  like 
Pbilip  and  Natbanael,  could  settle  down 
into  the  beart  of  every  moral  man.  Well 
it  would  be  if  every  man  in  tbe  world, 
bowever  good  be  be,  could  realize  tbat 
tbere  is  a  great  portion  of  life  yet  unlived 
until  Cbrist  is  met  face  to  face. 

But  tbe  question  springs  up  just  bere, 
Is  one  not  already  a  Christian,  if  be  is  good 
and  ofuileless,  like  Natbanael?  Is  not  tbe 
very  aim  of  all  Christ's  religion  to  make 
us  good  and  guileless  ?  and  if  this  is  a  part 
of  our  present  experience,  what  is  to  be 
gained  by  finding  the  Christ,  and  speaking 
with  Him  ?  We  do  certainly  agree  tbat 
righteousness  of  life  is  of  the  first  impor- 
tance. We  can  all  say,  doubtless,  that  we 
have  more  than  once  been  puzzled  to  know 
how  some  persons  who  were  called  Chris- 
tians could  compare  so  poorly  with  some 
others  who  never  made  a  profession  of 
faith,  and  never  partook  of  the  sacraments 
of  tbe  Church.  We  have  wondered  why 
good,  lovable  souls  should  be  found  out- 
side   of  the    fellowship   of  the    Christian 


THE    TREE    OF    SEARCH.  145 

Church,  and  why  Christians  could  be  found 
doinof  mean  and  hateful  thinos.  Then  we 
take  up  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  and  read 
what  He  said  in  sermons  and  conversa- 
tions, that  "  not  every  one  that  saith  unto 
me.  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  hut  he  that  doeth  My 
will."  Then,  too,  we  read  how  His  welcome 
into  everlasting  habitations  should  turn 
upon  our  having  comforted  the  sick,  visited 
the  prisoner,  clothed  the  naked,  and  fed 
the  hungry, — thus  doing  good  unto  the 
least  of  these  His  brethren.  We  some- 
times have  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  what 
it  is  to  be  a  Christian.  Saying  the  same 
prayers  and  repeating  the  same  creeds 
does  not  make  us  alike.  The  slight  dif- 
ferences in  the  ways  we  travel  in  following 
and  seiving  Christ  do  not  justify  us  in 
calling  each  other  unchristian  and  unortho- 
dox. Nothing  hinders  more  the  progress 
of  the  religion  of  Christ  as  He  taught  and 
lived  it,  than  the  practice  of  making 
Christian  service  a  separate  business  of 
life.  Who  can  be  moved  by  a  man's 
prayers  or  professions  on  Sunday,  if  on 
Saturday  he  was  unrighteous  and  unchris- 


146    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

tian  in  his  conduct?  There  is  such  a  things 
as  putting  on  the  religious  look,  and  using 
the  solemn  voice  in  speaking  ot  religious 
things  ;  yet  it  is  as  superticial  as  the  mere 
dress.  How  distinct  and  pointed  Christ 
was  upon  this  matter,  when  He  taught  in 
the  presence  of  the  formal  Pharisees  !  Of 
these  Christ  spoke  as  "  seeming  to  he  relig- 
ious "  by  "  disfiguring  their  countenances." 
Surely  a  man  falls  under  the  condemnation 
of  Christ  when  his  religious  life  is  so  unus- 
ual and  separate  a  thing  from  his  common 
life  that  he  cannot  wear  the  same  look  and 
speak  in  the  same  tone  used  in  the  ordi- 
nary w\alks  of  daily  life.  Our  Lord  did 
not  teach  that  His  relio^ion  is  something  to 
be  pursued  apart  from  the  common  life  ; 
but  He  said,  on  the  contrary,  This  that  I 
give  you  is  to  be  your  life,  —  the  new, 
heavenly,  abundant,  eternal  life.  "I  give 
my  life  for  the  world."  And  this  gift  is  not 
a  treasure  emptied  into  the  wasting  waters 
of  the  ocean.  He  gives  His  life;  but  He 
knows  where  every  throb  of  it  goes.  The 
new  way  in  which  men  live  w4io  receive 
Him  and  walk  with  Him, — this  is  Christ's 
life  given  for  the  world.     Other  religions 


THE   TREE    OP    SEARCH.  147 

practised  in  the  world  before  Christ  came, 
the  religions  of  the  heathen,  and  even  that 
of  the  Hebrews,  had  rituals,  processions, 
festivals,  elaborate  formulas  and  sacrifices  ; 
but  Christ's  faith  came  as  something  far 
higher,  grander  and  more  spiritual  than 
any  which  the  world  had  yet  known  or 
practised.  It  is  a  religion  not  for  special 
occasions,  but  for  every  day ;  not  for  one 
sacred  spot,  but  for  all  the  paths  of  toil ; 
not  for  one  day  out  of  seven,  but  for  the 
seven  days  of  every  week  of  life.  We  may 
rest  assured  that  it  is  possible  under  any 
system  to  take  up  religious  customs  as 
agreeable  diversions  merely,  and  make 
religion  a  pursuit  or  a  profession.  It  is 
possible  for  a  man  to  pursue  his  relio-- 
ious  life  of  mere  formalism  with  even  a 
wicked  spirit.  He  can  pray  long  prayers, 
and  be  outwardly  very  religious,  and  yet 
the  whole  may  be  only  as  "sounding  brass 
or  a  tinkling  cymbal."  Thus  a  very  punc- 
tilious and  orthodox  religionist,  Jew  or 
Christian,  may  come  to  be  the  very  worst 
hindrance  to  the  kingdom  of  God.  For, 
having  missed  the  spirit  of  Christ  in  his 
methods  of  assuming  the  ways  of  religion, 


148  FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

he  may  easily  pass  from  religious  to  secu- 
lar things,  and  liccome  even  a  notorious 
sharper  in  the  community,  —  nobody  being 
able  to  tell  by  his  dealings  or  by  his  spirit 
that  he  ever  heard  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.  Not  the  forms  of  Christianity, 
but  the  spirit  of  Christ,  makes  us  substan- 
tially Christians. 

So,  while  we  linger  in  our  thought  by 
the  fig-tree  of  Nathanael's  search,  we  may 
find  a  good  reason  for  his  guilelessness  of 
spirit  which  Jesus  recognized  in  him  at 
the  very  first  interview.  Nathanael  was 
seekins:  to  find  out  all  he  could  about  the 
Christ  of  prophecy.  Doubtless  he  had 
the  books  of  the  prophets  by  him,  when 
Philip  came  with  the  joyful  announcement 
that  the  Messiah  was  found.  He  was  all 
the  while  a  seeker  after  Him.  So,  when 
the  question  arises  with  us,  Was  not 
Nathanael  already  a  Christian,  a  saved 
man,  before  he  came  with  Philip  and  said 
to  Jesus  as  he  met  him,  "Rab!4,  thou  art 
the  Son  of  God ;  thou  art  the  King  of 
Israel "  ?  we  may  answer.  Yes  ;  he  was 
already  a  believer  in  Christ,  and  so  a 
Christian.     His  whole  soul  leaned  towards 


THE    TREE    OF    SEARCH.  149 

this  ver^  Christ,  long,  long  before  he  saw 
His  face  and  heard  Him  say,  "Before  that 
Philip  called  thee,  when  tliou  wast  under 
the  fig  tree,  I  saw  thee."  We  need  only 
to  recall  our  own  experiences  as  Christian 
believers  to  see  how  true  this  is.  A  whole- 
souled  search  after  Christ  makes  us  Chris- 
tians. You  remember  the  day  when  you 
were  received  into  the  fellowship  of  the 
Church.  You  remember  how  solemn  and 
how  sweet  was  the  service  when  the  sacra- 
ments of  baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper 
were  administered  to  you,  and  you  became 
pronounced  Christians  among  your  ac- 
quaintances, and  before  God  and  the 
angels.  But  was  that  day  the  first  day  of 
your  Christian  life,  or  was  it  rather  a 
great  festival  and  coronation  day?  Can 
we  not  all  say  that  we  feel  we  were  Chris- 
tians the  very  moment  we  began  to  seek 
with  sincere  desire  to  know  Christ  for 
ourselves,  and  to  be  governed  by  His 
spirit  and  precepts?  When  we  stopped 
trying  to  find  faults  in  the  Bible,  in  the 
Church,  in  Christians,  and  just  gave  our 
souls  the  right  to  seek  and  to  ask  like 
little  children,  just  then  were  we  Chris 


150    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

tians.  Before  Nathanael  and  Philip  had 
found  the  Messiah,  they  had  read  from  the 
Hebrew  rolls  these  words  of  Isaiah : 
"His  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful, 
Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Ever- 
lasting Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace." 
"  Surely  He  hath  borne  our  griefs  and 
carried  our  sorrows.  He  was  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  He  was  bruised  for 
our  iniquities ;  the  chastisement  of  our 
peace  was  upon  Him,  and  with  His  stripes 
we  are  healed."  This  Christ  in  prophecy 
Nathanael  and  Philip  believed  in,  and 
waited  for.  Each  new  step  of  a  closer 
approach  to  Him  was  taken  with  the  same 
earnest  desire  to  know  personally  the  Son 
of  God.  When  any  of  us  are  as  deeply 
interested  as  were  Philip  and  Nathanael  to 
find  Christ,  we  shall  in  no  wise  fail  to  find 
Him.  As  soon  as  any  one  of  us  will  read 
in  the  prophecies  or  in  the  gospels  of 
Christ  with  the  purpose  of  being  mastered 
by  the  Christ  there  revealed,  just  then 
the  Christian  life  begins  with  us.  It  is 
not  natural  goodness  or  instinctive  obe- 
dience that  makes  loyalty,  but  the  deter- 
mination of  the  will  to  be  good  and  obe- 


THE   TREE    OF    SEARCH.  151 

dient  for  the  sake  of  the  King.  Thus, 
when  Philip  comes  to  Nathanael,  his 
friend,  telling  the  glad  tidings  out  of  a 
heart  of  love  to  his  friend,  Nathanael  is 
only  staggered  at  the  word  that  the  Mes- 
siah is  a  Nazarene  ;  he  does  not  refuse  to 
go  on  with  Philip.  The  honest  seeker 
will  try  what  his  best  friend  suggests. 
What  a  Hood  of  such  helps  we  have  stood 
against !  Instead  of  rising  up  out  of  our 
gloomy  doubts,  and  in  spite  of  natural 
shrinking  and  questioning,  we  have  re- 
fused, oh,  how  often,  to  be  led  by  teacher, 
pastor,  friend,  by  any  and  all  the  voices 
that  have  called  to  us  to  2:0  on  to  meet  the 
Christ,  until  we  have  well-nigh  turned  our 
light  into  darkness. 

If  we  are  all  earnest  learners  of  Christ 
to-day,  if  in  our  hearts  we  believe  His  will 
is  God's  will,  and  that  He  wants  each  one 
of  us  to  be  with  Him  now  and  hereafter, 
shall  we  not  make  this  the  first  interest  of 
our  life,  and  in  all  possible  ways  declare 
our  loval  love  to  Christ?  Is  there  a 
higher  honor  possible  to  any  man  or 
woman  than  to    be    sought  and  called  of 


152         FREDERICK    SARGENT   HUNTINGTON. 

Christ,  and  to  be  associated  with  Him? 
All  brotherhoods  and  fellowships,  how- 
ever hio:h  their  character  and  noble  their 
aim,  are,  after  all,  far  inferior  to  Christ's 
Church.  For  there  is  a  divine  Founder 
and  Head  over  this  fellowship  of  Chris- 
tians ;  and  we  join  the  Church  of  Christ 
for  no  brief  term,  nor  for  temporal  ends, 
but  for  an  everlasting  fellowship.  The 
revelation  that  overwhelmed  Nathanael  as 
he  spoke  to  Jesus  for  the  first  time  may 
w^ell  fill  us  with  amazement,  as  w^e  are  re- 
minded that  our  search  for  Christ  can 
never  be  so  early  or  so  anxious  as  Christ's 
search  for  us.  When  the  guileless  Na- 
thanael found  that  Christ's  eye  had  been 
upon  him  when  he  was  under  the  fig-tree, 
his  long  anticipations  suddenly  ripened 
into  full  fruition.  What  could  so  rouse 
the  w^orship  of  the  man's  heart  as  to 
realize  that  he  had  been  singled  out  by 
the  Messiah,  sought  after  by  the  King  of 
Israel?  If  the  Gospel  is  true,  as  we  be- 
lieve it  to  be,  there  is  no  one  here  or  any- 
where who  is  not  also  sought  after  by 
Christ.     What  shall  we  respond  to  all  the 


THE    TREE    OF    SEARCH.  153 

voices  that  say  to  us  now,  and  have  been 
saying  to  us  so  long,  "Come  and  see"? 
Shall  we  not  arise  and  go  to  meet  the 
Saviour,  and  make  our  search  complete  by 
findinir  Him,  our  Lord  and  Redeemer? 


thp:  tree  of  conviction. 

And  behold,  there  was  a  man  named  Zaccheus 
which  was  the  chief  among  the  publicans,  and  he 
was  rich.  And  he  sought  to  see  Jesus  who  he  was ; 
and  could  not  for  the  press,  because  he  was  little  of 
stature.  And  he  ran  before,  and  climbed  up  into  a 
sycamore  tree  to  see  Him,  for  He  was  to  pass  that 
way.  —  Luke  xix.  2-4. 

Not  very  far  from  the  fig-tree  of  Nathan- 
ael's  search  for  the  Messiah  is  the  sycamore- 
tree,  where  Zaccheus  not  only  looked  for 
and  saw  Jesus,  but  where  he  also  became 
convinced  of  Christ's  right  to  be  the  guest 
of  his  home  and  heart.  In  the  shadow  of 
this  goodly  tree  of  the  kingdom  we  may 
do  well  to  linger.  A  very  different  man 
is  this  rich,  miserly  Jew,  Zaccheus,  from 
the  studious,  noble  Israelite,  Nathanael. 
The  one  is  fraudulent,  the  other  is  guile- 
less ;  yet  both  are  seekers  after  the  Mes- 
siah. Nathanael  is  led  on  by  the  personal 
entreaty  of  a  friend,  and  finds  in  Jesus  all 
that  he  had  anticipated ;  Zaccheus  is 
carried  along  by  his  own  native  curiosity, 


THE   TREE    OF    CONVICTION.  155 

and  finds  in  Je^us  a  great  deal  more  than 
he  had  anticipated.     The  one  rises  up  from 
his  study  of  Messianic  prophecy,  and  goes 
to    see    the    Christ    foretold ;    the    other 
emerges  from  his  pilfering  life,  and  climbs 
into  the  sycamore  boughs  "to  see  Jesus  who 
he  was."     The  difterent  conditions   under 
wdiich  Jesus  met  and  dealt  with  persons 
in  His  ministry  is  always  fascinating  and 
instructive.     He  does  not  speak  and  act 
by  any  set  rule  or  stereotyped  form,  but 
always  according  to  the  individual  condi- 
tion   and    character   of    those    addressed. 
What  a  different  picture  we  have  of  our 
Lord  as  the  guest  in  the  Bethany  home, 
from   the  picture    of  Him    in    connection 
with  the  woman  at  the  well  in  Sychar  !    In 
the    home    of  those    pure-minded,    loving 
friends.  He  is  a  visitor  easily  unfolding  the 
riches  of  His  spirit  to  those  whose  minds 
are  in  sympathy  with   Him,  and  who  are 
ready  to  absorb  His  every  w^ord.     At  the 
well  of  Jacob  He  is  just  as  anxious  to  be  a 
friend  and  teacher  ;  but,  before  He  can  pos 
sibly  be  realized  as  such  by  the  Samaritan 
woman.  He  must  cut  a   path  through  the 
tangle  of  an  unholy  life  by  the  keen  words 


156    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

He  utters,  and  pour  in  the  sunlight  of  His 
divine  truth  into  the  dark  chambers  of  her 
soul,  before  a  loving  fellowship  could  be 
brought  about  between  sinner  and  Saviour. 
And  yet  how  true  it  is  that  we  learn  to 
worship  the  Redeemer  at  just  those  places 
where  He  met  the  sinful  ones,  and  saved 
them  into  holy  affection  and  discipleship. 
Meagre  and  unsatisfying  the  Gospel  nar- 
ratives would  be  for  us,  had  we  no  accounts 
of  just  such  scenes  as  that  by  the  Sychar 
well,  and  this  of  the  sycamore-tree,  where 
those  who  came  before  Jesus  craved  some- 
thing more  than  the  look  or  word  of  a 
human  soul,  however  tender  and  deep. 
The  power,  the  perennial  glory,  and  the 
exhaustless  inspiration  of  the  Gospel,  may 
be  traced  to  the  spots  where  Jesus  met 
sinners  so  much  like  ourselves,  and  changed 
them,  by  His  own  singular,  divine  power, 
into  disciples  and  friends  of  Himself,  then 
into  apostles  of  His  truth  and  Church. 

So  Zaccheus  interests  us.  He  was  a 
sinner,  by  his  own  confession.  He  must 
have  felt  condemned  before  he  left  the 
stand  Avhere  he  practised  extortion  upon 
the  poor  Jews,  and  grew  rich  upon  these 


THE   TREE    OF   CONVICTION.  157 

ill-gotten  gains.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
the  motives  which  lead  into  the  high  and 
holy  experiences  of  life  be  always  lofty 
and  nveat.  The  little  accidental  thini^s,  as 
they  seem  to  us,  sometimes  prove  to  have 
been  the  maofnificent  providences  which 
issue  in  ojreat  results.  And  how  often  we 
trace  the  fact  of  a  soul's  conversion  to  the 
friendly  word  or  to  the  expostulation  of  a 
neighbor,  teacher,  parent !  A  book  put 
into  the  hand ;  a  visit  to  the  home  of  a 
Christian  ;  a  special  service  or  sermon,  — 
may  be  the  impulse  which  issues  in  the 
conversion  of  a  soul  to  Christ.  It  is  never 
safe  to  ignore  the  litile  events  of  life. 
The  tax-oatherer,  Zaccheus,  had  no 
thought  of  being  so  soon  the  honored  host 
of  the  renowned  Galilean  Master  and 
Miracle-worker,  as  he  left  the  receipt  of 
customs  that  day  'Uo  see  Jesus  who  he 
was  ; "  he  only  intended  to  put  himself 
in  a  place  where  he  could  look  upon  Jesus 
as  He  passed,  and  so  satisfy  his  curiosity 
to  see  this  strangely  successful  Teacher 
from  Galilee. 

We  find  something  in  the  experience  of 
Zaccheus    which    is    quite    like    that    of 


158    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

Nathanael  in  meeting  the  Messiah.  Both 
these  men  were  amazed  to  find  themselves 
sought  after  by  Him  whom  they  were  seek- 
ing. And  is  not  this  the  great  over- 
whelming surprise  of  every  seeker,  in 
every  age  ?  Do  we  not  all  have  this  same 
great  wonder  spreading  like  a  sunrise 
glory  over  all  the  world  within,  when  we 
fully  and  freely  give  ourselves  to  an 
earnest  search  after  Christ?  We  have 
found  that  peculiar  joy  which  is  sure  to 
come  to  all  who  say,  from  their  hearts,  "  To 
whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words 
of  eternal  life."  Do  we  not  all  then  real- 
ize that  we  have  not  approached  a  sleep- 
ing or  indifferent  Saviour,  but  that  all 
along  He  has  loved  us  with  an  everlasting 
love,  so  that  we  never  could  be  the  first 
parties  in  a  search  which  ends  in  fellow- 
ship with  Christ?  More  than  we  can  ever 
know,  probably,  the  divine  love  that  goes 
out  from  God's  heart,  touches  us,  starts 
the  helping  influences  which  bring  us  to 
meet  our  Lord,  if  we  do  not  stubbornly 
resist  those  motives  and  helpful  agencies. 
That  which  makes  the  meetings  of 
Nathanael  and  Zaccheus  with  Jesus  such 


THE   TREE    OF   CONVICTION.  159 

instructive  examples  as  they  are,  lies 
largely  in  the  fact  that  they  are  such  thor- 
oughly representative  characters.  Na- 
thanael  has  grown  up  a  guileless  man, 
like  many  a  man  in  modern  times, 
without  any  personal  acquaintance  with 
Jesus  Christ.  On  the  other  hand,  Zac- 
cheus,  by  his  own  confession,  is  a  con- 
scious sinner,  and  unjust.  Both  these 
men  find  a  new  revelation  and  a  new  life 
as  they  come  face  to  face  with  the  Messiah. 
But  Nathanael  is  not  the  only  noble  man 
who  has  advanced  from  a  life  of  respect- 
able, moral,  and  even  religious  habits,  into 
the  warmer  and  more  life-giving  spirit  of 
a  Christian.  The  essential  element  of 
guilelessness  which  Jesus  recognized  in 
Nathanael  lies  in  the  spirit  of  readiness  to 
follow  up  every  new  hint  or  suggestion  of 
service  to  Chrisl.  There  may  be  guile- 
lessness in  the  heathen,  who  knows  no 
better  than  to  worship  an  idol ;  but,  once 
convinced  that  the  God  of  the  Bible  is  the 
only  true  God,  and  that  Jesus  Christ  His 
Son  is  the  only  Saviour,  and  there  can  be 
no  guilelessness  if  he  remains  an  idolater, 
because  he  is  too  selfish  or  too  indolent  to 


160    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

take  up  the  cross  of  Christian  discipleship. 
Christ  becomes  a  terrible  bar  of  judgnient 
when  we  come  face  to  face  with  Him, 
listen  to  His  w^orcls,  understand  what  He 
asks  of  us,  and  then  turn  our  backs  upon 
His  claims.  If  we  can  do  this  to-day,  we 
can  do  it  more  easily  next  Sunday,  and  so 
on  all  through  life  ;  and  fellowship  with 
the  discarded  Saviour  grows  more  and 
more  difficult.  So,  too,  Zaccheus  is  not 
the  only  man  w4io  has  grown  tired  of  his 
sinful  practises,  and  felt  restless  and  be- 
come anxious  to  see  something  of  Jesus. 
He  must  have  felt,  as  we  all  feel  when 
conscious  of  disobedience  to  God's  will, 
that  Jesus  could  have  very  little  interest 
in  such  a  sinner.  But  in  whom  is  Jesus 
interested,  if  not  in  sinners?  How  strong 
and  clear  are  the  words  spoken  by  Him  to 
Zaccheus,  "  For  the  Son  of  Man  is  come 
to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost." 

How  much  more  it  must  have  cost  this 
publican  to  meet  Christ  face  to  face,  than 
it  did  Nathanael.  The  moral  nature  of 
this  upright  man  had  not  been  degraded 
by  wicked  conduct  to  fellow -men  ;  he  al- 
ready felt  loyally  toward  the  Messiah  of 


THE   TREE    OF    CONVICTION.  161 

his  visions  and  of  the  Hebrew  prophecies. 
On  the  other  hand,  Zaccheus  had  no  such 
preparation  of  soul  to  make  his  first  meet- 
ing with  Jesus  an  unmixed  joy.    Nathanael, 
under   the    fig-tree,    was  like    a    traveller 
among  the  Alps  who  rests  on   the  moun- 
tain-side,  and    looks  off  to  cloud-capped 
peaks    that   obstruct  his  view    of  distant 
ranges;  Nathanael,  face   to  face  with   the 
Messiah,  was  the  traveller  on  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  above  the  clouds,  looking 
indeed  into    new   heavens,  and   upon   the 
clouds    which    are    now    all    below    him, 
changed   into   wondrous  billows  of  glory, 
bathed  as  they  are  in  the  light  of  the  sun. 
Zaccheus,  upon  the   limb  of  the  syca- 
more-tree, was  like  the  ship  trembling  upon 
the  crest  of  a  wave  in  a  stormy  sea,  soon 
to  plunge  into  fearful   depths  and   to    be 
drenched    by  the    ocean,  before    riofhtino- 
itself  to  move    onward    in    triumph.     A 
strange  demand  came  from  Jesus  straio^ht 
to  the  conscience  of  thi;  man  who  obeyed 
the  voice  which  said,    "  Make  haste    and 
come  down,  for  to-day  I  must  abide  at  thy 
house."     How  does   He   know  my  name  ; 
how  came  He  to  see  me  ?  —  are  questions 


162    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

that  must  have  shot  through  his  confused 
mind,  as  he  let  himself  down  by  the  boughs 
of  the  tree  to  stand  side  by  side  with  Him 
of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much,  and  who 
now,  after  the  manner  of  kings,  invited 
Himself  to  the  house  of  a  publican. 

We  tind  in  the  Gospel  narrative  no  trace 
of  any  inquiry  by  the  Master  respecting 
the  way  in  which  Zaccheus  had  been 
doing  business.  All  we  have  is  the  simple 
command,  "Zaccheus,  come  down,  for 
to-day  I  must  abide  at  thy  house."  Our 
Lord  never  put  Himself  before  a  sinner  in 
the  role  of  a  mere  attorney,  to  question 
and  cross-question  for  the  sake  of  drawing 
out  mere  splinters  of  a  truthful  confession 
from  a  reluctant,  secretive  bosom.  It  is 
not  the  credo  of  the  lips  but  of  the  heart 
that  He  always  listens  to  hear.  Any  sin- 
ner who  becomes  convinced,  like  Zacche- 
us, that  Jesus  is  worthy  to  be  his  guest, 
knows  also,  with  that  publican,  that  cher- 
ished sins  must  be  banished  from  the  place 
where  Jesus  abides.  Here  is  the  great 
searching  demand  which  Zaccheus  felt 
as  he  stood  before  the  Master.  Conviction 
of  the  truth  of  Christianity  demands  the 


THE   TREE    OF    CONVICTION.  163 

forsaking  of  sin.  The  philosophy  of  Christ's 
salvation  has  its  profoundest  depth  just 
here.  To  keep  our  actions  in  harmony 
with  our  convictions  is  the  supreme  con- 
dition of  all  healthful  and  joyful  living. 
To  carry  about  a  conviction  that  calls  upon 
us  for  a  certain  definite  action,  and  yet 
fail  to  act,  is  like  having  a  good  founda- 
tion for  a  house  without  putting  a  building 
upon  it.  Why  take  pains  to  build  the 
foundation,  if  you  rear  no  structure  on  the 
granite  base?  The  foundation  is  soon 
undermined  and  ruined  bv  storms  and 
exposure,  if  left  without  the  promised 
superstructure.  So  a  conviction  is  not  an 
end  in  itself,  but  is  s^ood  for  nothino^  but 
to  mock  the  builders,  unless  built  upon 
and  covered  by  the  house.  How  many 
miserable,  ever- failing  foundations  in  Chris- 
tian character-building  there  are !  How 
many  have  been  convinced  that  the  reli- 
gion of  Jesus  Christ  is  saving  and  needful, 
and  have  stopped  just  there,  —  mere  base- 
ments of  useful,  influential  Christians  ! 
Convinced  by  the  saintly  life  of  a  mother, 
by  the  teac^hings  of  pulpit  and  Sunday- 
school,  by  the  renewing  effects  of  salva- 


164    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

tion  seen  in  the  lives  of  faithful  disciples, 
by  the  growth  and  usefulness  of  institutions 
saturated  with  the  spirit  of  Christ,  — con- 
vinced, but   not  conformed  !     How  many 
part  company  with  Zaccheus  at  his  door- 
step, and  go  back,  after  having  seen  Jesus, 
to  do  just  as  they  have  done  before,  with- 
out  making   a  single  move  to   act  up  to 
their  convictions  ;  while  the  publican  said, 
"  I  will  try  to  undo  all  my  wTong,  and  be 
a  true  host  of  the    Master    and    Saviour, 
Jesus  Christ."     It  might  be  difficult  to  fmd 
any  one  in  our  Christian  communities  who 
hates    Christ   and  the  institutions   of  His 
Church.     We  do  not  find  any  one  anxious 
to    cleanse  the    floor   where    a    Christian 
teacher  has   stood,    as   in    heathen    coun- 
tries.    Even  bad  men  are  often  found  glad 
to  see  Christian  interests  flourishing.    Mul- 
titudes   are    convinced    that    Christ    and 
Christianity,  where  rightly  taught,  make 
every  element  of  social  life  better.     Yet 
how  many  men  fail  to  act  thoroughly  ac- 
cording to  their  convictions  !     How  many, 
when    called    to    come    down    from   their 
sycamore-tree    of   conviction,  to    be    the 
host   of   their    Saviour,   refuse  to   obey ! 


THE   TREE    OF    CONVICTION.  165 

Many  prefer  to  keep  their  place  of  curious 
and  perhaps  critical  on-lookers,  and  do  not 
obey  when  the  clear  personal  call  comes 
to  them  to  be  something  more  than  observ- 
ers of  religion  from  pew  or  drawing-room, 
mere  spectators  of  the  long  procession  of 
the  ages,  made  up  of  the  multitudes  who 
have  not  been  ashamed  to  be  called  the 
followers  of  Christ.  It  is  when  the  con- 
viction comes  to  the  publican  that  Jesus 
is  right  and  he  is  wrong,  then  the  new, 
strenuous  demand  rests  down  upon  his 
conscience.  Conviction  must  be  followed 
by  conformity  ;  and  conformity  to  Christ's 
standard  meant  the  undoins^  of  wrono^,  the 
repenting  of  sins,  so  that  he  might  attach 
his  sympathy  and  loyalty  to  his  Divine 
Guest.  Is  it  not  this  straiirhtforward  and 
thoroughly  manly  action  of  Zaccheus 
which  makes  him  an  exemplar?  Would 
that  we  all  might  put  to  ourselves  this 
test.  Can  I  entertain  the  Lord?  This  can 
be  joyfully  done  if  we  are  ready  to  say, 
with  Zaccheus,  "  I  quit,  once  for  all, 
every  mean  thing,  everything  that  I  know 
to  be  inconsistent  for  a  Christian  disciple  ; 
and  I  will  let  the  Master  not  into  my  house 


166  FREDERICK    SARGENT    HUNTINGTON. 

only,  but  into  my  heart  as  well ;  and  I 
welcome  His  full  control  of  my  every 
interest."  To  have  any  secret  plan  or  pur- 
suit closed  fast  against  God  is  to  make 
ourselves  incapable  of  hospitality  tov^^ards 
Him. 

Thus,  as  we  look  at  Zaccheus  among 
the  branches  of  the  sycamore-tree,  into 
which  he  climbed  to  see  Jesus,  we  see  a 
representative  of  a  vast  multitude  of  this 
and  of  every  age,  who  are  at  least  willing 
to  turn  a  seeing  eye  and  a  listening  ear 
toward  Christ  and  Christianity.  Probably 
no  age  was  ever  more  willing  to  see  Jesus 
as  He  is  than  this  in  which  we  live.  The 
world  is  growing  tired  of  speculations  and 
theories  and  theologies.  It  wants  to  see 
Him  as  He  is.  It  is  the  hopeful  sign  of 
our  times  that  the  best  thought  of  the 
Christian  Church  is  learning  its  theology 
from  Christ,  not  Christ  from  theology.  This 
will  bring  new  and  great  things  to  the 
Church  at  large, — more  vitality,  more 
integrity,  more  unity,  more  charity,  more 
power,  more  likeness  to  Christ  in  those 
who  are  Christians.  Before  leaving  the 
sycamore-tree,  we  need  to  notice,  by  way 


THE   TREE    OF    CONVICJTION.  167 

of  contrast,  what  other  course  lay  before 
Zaccheus  after  he  had  discovered  who 
Jesus  was.  He  might  have  opened  his 
door  simply,  and  given  his  Guest  a  place  in 
his  home.  He  might  have  set  before  Him 
the  best  things  of  his  house  ;  just  as  we 
can  refrain  from  all  opposition  to  religious 
things,  even  give  our  money  and  interest 
to  the  work  of  Christ  among  us,  and  yet 
without  being  ourselves  Christians.  But 
could  Zaccheus,  can  we,  enter  into  the 
higher  range  of  hospitality  through  which 
one  lets  his  guest  not  only  into  the  most 
private  room,  but  also  into  his  own 
thought,  feeling  and  pursuits,  unless  Christ 
be  admitted  to  the  inmost  life?  Ah,  when 
we  think  of  this  quality  of  hospitality 
which  we  accord  only  to  the  truest  friend, 
do  we  not  feel  how  far  we  are  from  beino^ 
truly  hospitable  to  Him  who  would  be  our 
Divine  Guest  and  Friend?  If  relioion  is  a 
burden  and  task  to  us  ;  if  we  hasten  to 
escape  from  a  religious  atmosphere,  and 
dread  to  come  near  to  Christ,  wishinof  to 
hide  away  where  we  can  see  and  not  be 
seen,  then  we  are  convinced  simply,  and 
need  yet   to  be   conformed.     Is   not   the 


168    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

separation  which  one  can  bring  about 
between  himself  and  Christ  that  which 
throws  upon  each  one  the  entire  responsi- 
bility, now  and  hereafter,  of  entering  or 
refusing  heaven  ?  Christ,  the  Son  of  God, 
the  impersonation  of  truth  and  love,  cannot 
change.  We  can  and  ought  to  change ; 
for  we  are  dependent,  weak,  sinful.  Our 
conviction  that  Christ  is  right  should  do 
for  us  what  the  same  conviction  did  for 
Zaccheus,  —  change  our  purposes,  our  con- 
duct, our  hearts,  our  whole  life  ;  so  that 
we  shall  not  seek  to  hide  among  the 
branches,  but  be  alad  to  become  the  host 
of  Jesus,  giving  Him  the  first  and  best 
place  in  our  affections  and  life. 

May  we  all  be  as  brave  and  loyal  as 
Zaccheus ;  and  let  our  conviction  that 
Jesus  is  the  Teacher,  the  Miracle-worker, 
the  Son  of  Man,  the  Son  of  God  and 
Saviour  of  the  world,  bring  us  all  into  close 
and  lovino'  relations  with  Him,  so  that  He 
shall  be  Guest  in  the  central  chamber  of 
our  souls,  the  Master  of  the  life  that  now 
is  and  of  that  which  is  to  come  ! 

In  the  famous  painting  of  Munkaczy, 
"Christ  before  Pilate,"  there  is  a  new  con- 


THE   TREE    OF    CONVICTION.  169 

ception   of  our  Lord   represented  by  the 
artist.       Pilate    is    the    princely    figure, 
clothed    with    judicial    authority    by    the 
Roman  Emperor.     He  sits  in  the  robes  of 
state,   while  the  Jewish    priests    and    the 
rabble  hurry  the  offenseless  Christ  into  the 
judgment    hall.     Here    we    see,    not   the 
meek  and  subdued  Christ,  so  usual  in  art, 
with   the  look  of  inexpressible  grief  and 
fatigue,  but  He  has  the  searching,  convict- 
ing eye  of  a  eTudge  ;  while  in  Pilate's  face 
there  is  the  vacillating,  unpoised  look  of 
a  culprit.     In  the  careless,  rudely  curious, 
bawling  populace  crowding  about  the  fig- 
ure of  Christ,  and  even  in  the  look  of  the 
rigidly  prejudiced    Pharisees  and    priests 
who  stand  around  Pilate,  there  is  no  such 
look  of  conviction  as  is  seen  in  the  face  of 
Pilate,  who  was  compelled  to  say,   "I  find 
no  fault  in  Him."     Pilate  was  convinced, 
but    not    conformed.     Over   those    others 
who  madly  followed  the  lead  of  the  hie- 
rarchs,  having  no  such  conviction  as  that 
which    weighed    upon    Pilate,    the    dying 
Saviour,     a     few     hours     later,     prayed, 
"Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do."     The  artist  has  brouo'ht. 


170    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

into  his  picture  of  marvellous  power  and 
action,  a  truth  of  the  Gospel,  —  that  he 
who  judges  Christ  is  judged  of  Him.  Our 
lesson  to-day  shows  how  conviction  may 
pass  into  conformity  to  Christ,  and  how 
this  conformity  brings  joy  and  salvation 
to  the  believing  soul. 


THE   TREE   OF   GROWTH. 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  to  a  grain  of 
mustard  seed,  •\vhicli  a  man  took,  and  sowed  in  his 
field :  which  indeed  is  the  least  of  all  seeds :  but 
when  it  is  grown,  it  is  the  greatest  among  herbs, 
and  becometh  a  tree,  so  that  the  birds  of  the  air 
come  and  lodge  in  the  branches  thereof.  —  Matt.  xiii. 
31,  32. 

In  all  these  parables  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment it  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  that  is 
made  important.  How  many  different 
thin£:s  it  is  likened  unto  !  In  the  wav  it 
is  to  win  against  oppositions,  it  is  like  the 
struofizle  of  the  wheat  a^-ainst  the  tares  of 
the  field.  In  respect  to  its  importance,  it 
is  like  a  pearl  of  great  price,  or  the  treas- 
ure hid  in  a  field.  In  respect  to  its  pene- 
trating and  transforming  power,  it  is  like 
the  leaven  hid  in  the  meal,  and  wdiich  at 
last  leavens  the  whole  lump.  In  this 
parable  we  have  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
likened,  in  its  growth,  to  the  mustard 
seed,  "which  indeed  is  the  least  of  all 
seeds :  but    when    it    is  <>:rown,  it   is    the 


172    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

greatest   among   herbs,    and   becometh   a 
tree." 

The  small  beginning  of  any  large  result 
always  interests  us.  If  an  infant  is  more 
attractive  and  beautiful  to  us  than  a  kitten 
or  a  colt,  it  is  scarcely  because  there  is  more 
comeliness  or  intelligence  manifested. 
How  much  brighter  and  more  respon- 
sive are  the  young  of  the  dom.estic  animals 
than  the  little  infant ;  and  yet  what  unre- 
mitting attentions  and  thought,  devotion 
and  love,  do  infants  call  forth,  while  we 
soon  leave  the  young  colt  or  lamb  to  their 
playfulness.  Does  not  this  superior  charm 
of  the  infant  come  from  the  superior  des- 
tiny belonging  to  its  life?  The  infant  may 
be  far  duller  than  the  kitten;  but  wq 
think  of  the  endless  life  that  goes  wnth  the 
one  little  bundle,  while  the  other  living 
playthings  are  born  only  for  a  brief  exis- 
tence. There  are  infinite  possibilities 
wrapped  up  in  that  cradle,  and  so  the 
infant  life  is  guarded  with  sacred  care  and 
patient  watchfulness.  Then,  too,  we  like 
to  witness  the  expansion  of  that  which  is 
small  into  the  larger  and  complete  result. 
The  little  bud  opening  into  a  full  leaf  is  at- 


THE    TREE    OF    GROWTH.  173 

tractive.  The  small  seed  becomiiiir  a 
stocky  plant  or  tree  is  a  marvellous  picture, 
and  yet  is  often  before  us.  Growth  is  the 
great  kingly  attribute  of  life;  and  that 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  likened  unto  a 
grain  of  mustard  seed,  — the  least  of  seeds, 
—  is  profoundly  inspiring.  The  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  a  growth.  Whether  we 
speak  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  an 
outward  organization,  a  society  in  the 
world,  or  as  a  spiritual  force  and  quality 
of  the  soul,  the  truth  is  the  same,  —  a  small 
beginning  and  a  large  result. 

There  are  some  very  practical' and  help- 
ful lessons  that  shine  out  from  this  para- 
ble of  the  mustard  seed.  First,  the  kino- 
dom  of  heaven  is  something  quite  distinct 
and  definite.  Although  this  spiritual  king- 
dom penetrates  and  permeates  like  leaven, 
losing  itself  at  length  in  the  larger  meas- 
ure as  the  whole  lump  receives  its  inlhi- 
ence,  still,  the  leaven  is  not  really  lost; 
it  has  expanded  itself,  and  so  entered  into 
other  materials  as  to  give  them  a  new 
quality  by  its  presence  in  the  midst  of 
them.  We  need  to  reflect  that  the  most 
delinite  things  of  the  world  are  not  always 


174    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

things  of  sense.  The  life  of  the  tree  does 
not  make  itself  definite  and  distinct  by 
occupying  a  particular  limb  or  section  of 
the  trunk,  but  rather  by  the  thorough  and 
complete  difference  made  in  the  whole 
tree  by  its  being  alive.  Every  fibre,  every 
branch  and  twig,  every  leaf,  is  touched 
and  changed  by  the  presence  of  the  tree's 
life.  The  life  of  the  tree  indicates  its 
presence  by  the  whole  character  of  the 
tree.  So,  when  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
likened  unto  the  grain  of  mustard  seed, 
we  find  a  complete  harmony  with  the  par- 
able of  the  leaven  ;  only  that  the  distinct- 
ness and  definiteness  of  the  kingdom  seem 
more  conspicuous  here.  The  kingdom  is 
not  necessarily  large  in  the  beginning, 
but  it  is  something  entirely  different  from 
every  other  germ  and  force  in  the  world. 
It  has  an  inherent  persistency,  a  marvel- 
lous vigor  of  growth ;  so  that  from  the 
very  least  beginning  it  grows  to  be  the 
very  largest  thing  in  the  world,  and 
changes  by  degrees  the  very  world  itself. 
To  the  disciples  who  listened  to  Jesus,  this 
was  almost  entirely  prophecy.  All  that 
they  could  verify  was   the   foct   that  the 


THE   TREE    OF    GROWTH.  175 

kingdom   was    small,    the    very    least    of 
societies  or  sects  among  Grecian,  Roman, 
or  Hebrew  people.     Those  who  first  heard 
the  parable  could  not  have  seen  how  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  as  represented  by  the 
spirit  and  doctrine  of  their  Master, — this 
kingdom  of  God  which  is  "righteousness 
and  peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,"  — 
could  come  to  overreach  all  other  societies, 
and  be  as  much  greater  than  these  in  its 
mature    development    as    the    full-grown 
mustard-tree  of  the  East  is  greater  than 
the  tiny  seed  from  which  it  grows.     But 
we,  in  looking  at  the  mustard-tree  to-day, 
after    it    has    had    nineteen    centuries    of 
growth,  find    it   easy  to    believe    Christ's 
prophecy.     Wherever  the  seed  has  been 
planted  and  cared  for,  how  it  has  grown  ! 
In    1820,    Capt.    Cook    lands    upon    the 
Sandwich    Islands,  and    the   seed    of  the 
Gospel  is  sown  in  savage,  cannibal  bosoms. 
In  fifty  years  those  islands  are  civilized. 
So,  everywhere  the  kingdom  takes  hold  of 
society,  it  grows  up  and  outreaches  every 
other   organism,  in    influence,    if   not    in 
num])ers.     The  Christian  Church  may  be 
limited  to  one  noble  soul  in  a  whole  com- 


176    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

munity  of  godless  persons  ;  but,  if  that 
soul  is  on  fire,  burning  with  the  same 
maofnificent  lioht  that  comes  from  heaven 
to  lighten  every  one  who  will  be  lighted, 
one  soul,  alive  with  love  to  God  and  love 
to  fellow-men,  will  be  soil  enough  to  grow 
the  mustard-seed  ;  and  it  is  sure  to  put  a 
shade  over  all  other  societies  and  organi- 
zations that  can  spring  up  among  men, 
and  will  give  shelter  and  power  to  those 
who  will  lodoje  in  its  branches. 

The  kino:dom  of  God  is  distinct  and 
definite.  It  may  be  said  that  this  mustard 
plant  of  the  kingdom  is  only  one  of  a  great 
many  plants,  —  the  Christian  religion  one 
of  many  faiths,  philosophies,  organizations 
in  the  world.  It  is  only  a  rival  of  these. 
It  will  last  for  a  time,  then  decay.  Or,  it 
may  be  objected  —  against  the  claim  ot 
the  distinctive  character  of  Christianity  — 
that  superstitions  and  fanaticisms  and 
secularities  have  grown  up  about  this 
kino'dom  of  God,  like  vines  that  often 
entangle  and  choke  the  wheat  of  the  field, 
and  hide  from  view  the  grain.  And  just 
here  we  need  to  be  very  discriminating  in 
our  thoughts  of  the  kingdom  of  God.    The 


THE    TREE    OF    GROWTH.  177 

Church  organization,  like  the  professing 
Christian,  may  become  all  overgrown  witli 
superstition,  fiinaticism  and  worldliness ; 
but  the  cockle  that  chokes  some  spires  of 
wheat,  the  vine  that  twists  to  death  a  shrub 
or  plant,  does  not  change  wheat  into  cockle 
or  tree  into  vine.  If  a  Church  becomes 
persecuting  and  un-Christlike,  it  is  no 
longer  the  kingdom  of  God;  no  society 
of  men  and  women,  no  organization,  how- 
ever solemn  their  praises,  however  loud 
their  prayers,  or  foultless  their  theories, 
no  fellowship  of  men  which  separates  from 
Christ's  spirit,  His  law  of  life  and  conduct, 
—  none  such  are  of  His  kingdom.  "  Right- 
eousness and  peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost "  are  indelil)le  marks  of  the  kino-dom 
of  God  ;  and  without  these  tokens  all  prot- 
estations of  worthiness  must  0:0  for  nausfht. 
"Depart  from  me,  I  never  knew  you," 
are  the  words  our  Lord  spoke  for  those 
who  in  this  life  said,  "  Lord,  Lord,  have  we 
not  prophesied  in  Thy  name  ?  "  The  thought 
in  another  setting  is  this  :  the  kingdom  of 
God  is  not  lo.st  or  checked  by  the  decay 
of  Christianity  at  large,  or  by  local  or 
individual    lapsing  into  un-Christlike  life 


178    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

and  conduct.  There  has  always  been,  ever 
since  Christ  lived  and  taught  on  earth,  the 
kino^dom  of  heaven  anionf]^  men.  Protests 
and  reformations  have  been  the  hands  that 
have  snatched  away  the  choking  growths 
that  have  come  up  about  the  Christian 
Church.  But,  even  when  the  Christian 
Church  meant  war,  and  when  Christians 
were  the  worst  tyrants  and  persecutors  of 
fellow-men,  there  was  still  the  kingdom 
of  God,  if  only  in  some  dim  cloister,  or 
shrunk  back  within  the  lids  of  the  Word 
of  God.  Even  in  the  times  of  serious 
der)letion,  when  the  coldest  winter  of  dis- 
belief  prevailed  over  the  Christian  Church, 
still,  even  then,  the  mustard-tree,  however 
frost-bitten,  has  never  been  cut  down  or 
lost  sight  of,  but  has  grown  and  grown, 
until  already  the  birds  are  flying  to  its 
branches. 

The  parable  suggests  another  practical 
lesson,  which  history  also  helps  to  illus- 
trate. When  the  parable  was  spoken  in 
Palestine,  there  were  no  birds  flying  for 
refuse  into  the  branches  of  this  mustard- 
tree  of  the  kingdom.  There  were  no 
branches,  no  twi2:s  ;  there   was    only  the 


THE  trep:  of  growth.  179 

great  Sower  Himself  with  His  seed,  and  a 
few  open  hearts  ready  to  receive  this  seed 
of  the  word.  Out  of  the  human  heart  the 
kinirdom  must  grow.  The  seed  was  brought 
from  heaven,  and  with  the  hand  of  infi- 
nite care  was  cast  into  the  hearts  of  men. 
As  this  plant  began  to  grow,  after  Pente- 
cost, the  birds  of  respectability,  philosophy, 
and  government,  flew  at  it  like  harpies  or 
hungry  vultures,  anxious  to  pick  it  to 
l)ieces.  None  of  these  sought  to  shelter 
themselves  under  its  tender  branches,  or  to 
plume  themselves  among  its  leaves.  How 
the  Epicurean  philosophers  laughed  at  the 
ideas  of  self-sacrifice  and  brotherly  love, 
products  of  the  Christian  root !  How  the 
proud  Stoics  wondered !  How  the  las- 
civious and  self-indulgent  grew  anxious, 
then  maddened,  at  the  teachings  of  virtue 
and  purity  !  How  the  killing  of  weak  infants, 
according  to  the  state  law  of  Greece,  looked 
over  against  the  picture  of  a  little  child  in 
the  arms  of  Jesus  !  How  the  debasement 
of  women  and  cruelty  to  slaves,  known  in 
all  that  Hellenic  civilization,  was  opposed 
by  Paul's  sermon  on  Mars  Hill,  as  he 
preached  the  brotherhood  of  man  !     Did 


180    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

the  Roman  Senate,  did  the  emperors  or 
procurators,  care  to  have  the  hiws  of  the 
empire  accord  with  the  new  commandment 
Christ    gave?      Government    and    power 
were  exalted  against  Christianity,  not  for 
it,  during  the  first  three  centuries  of  our 
era.     But  how  is  it  now?     Christ's  word 
that   this  mustard  seed  would  arow   and 
spread  as   a   tree,  until   the  birds  of  the 
air   would   shelter  themselves  among   its 
branches,    is    being   fulfilled    in  our  age. 
Does   the   man    who    would   be   honored, 
respected,  and  saved  from  harm,  need  to  fiy 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to-day,  or  to 
deny  Christ,  as  did  Peter  in  the  palace  of 
the  governor,   to  save  his    life?     One    of 
the  dangers  to-day  threatening  the  Chris- 
tian Church  is  that  her  branches  may  break 
down  with  the  heavy  weight  of  the  birds 
of  popularity.     It  is  not  unpopular  to  be  a 
Christian.     Men  do  not  lose  caste  in  civil- 
ized lands  by  lodging  in  the  mustard-tree 
of  the  kinodom  of  heaven. 

Another  practical  lesson  which  we  must 
draw  from-  the  parable  is  this,  —  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  progressive.  Not  that 
any  revision  of  the  truth  has  been,  or  will 


THE    TREE    OF    GROWTH.  181 

be,  necessary.     Not  that  the  iilan  or  quality 
of  the   tree   could    be    improved  ;  but    in 
growth,  in    dimensions,  in   the    depth    to 
which  its  roots  shall  run  in  the  world,  and 
in  the  sheltering,  healing  power  of  its  leaves, 
as  all  the  hopes  and  needs   of  humanity 
fly  to  it,  —  in  this  there  shall  be   endless 
progress.     It  seems  a  slow  growth  to  us, 
perhaps;  but  God  has  planted  the    seed, 
and  the  tree  is  to  grow  forever.     Where 
have  the   best  philosophers  of  the  world 
stood  while  they  thought  and  wrote  of  the 
world,  of  man,  and  of  God?     From  Paul 
down  through  the  ages  to   the   Christian 
philosophers  of  our  own  time,  have  they 
not  all   stood  under  the  branches  of  the 
mustard-tree  of  the  kingdom   of  heaven  ? 
The   best  philosophy  says  the  world  is  a 
school,  a  scene  of  probation;  and  Christ 
also   taught   this.       The    best  philosophy 
says  God  is  a  person,  and  wants  our  per- 
sonal obedience  to  all  laws   of  rio'hteous- 
ness  ;  and  this  was  Christ's  own  law  and 
life.     It  has   been  well    said,    that,  if  all 
Bibles  were  lost  to-day,  the  best  books  of 
the  world  could  be  gathered,  and  the  Bible 
be  re-made  from  them.     The  thoudit  is 


182     FREDKRICK  SARGP:NT  HUNTINGTON. 

based  upon  the  truth  that  men  of  soundest 
mind  and  most  penetrating  thought  have 
found  the  ultimate  standards  of  hiw  and 
righteousness  in  the  laws  and  life  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  disclosed  bj^  Jesus  Christ. 
Is  not  the  restlessness  of  society  to-day, 
the  conflict  between  classes,  the  jarring 
and  jostling  of  men  in  different  ranks, 
brought  about  by  failures  to  recognize  or 
to  exhibit  in  conduct  the  principles  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ?  The  most  sober  and 
upright  statesmen  and  scholars  of  our  land 
are  seeking  to  rouse  among  leaders,  in  all 
departments  of  influence,  a  higher  and 
diviner  practice  of  government.  Towards 
the  branches  of  this  mustard-tree  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ  we  must  point  when  we 
choose  our  legislators  and  governors,  and 
ask  that  they  do  their  thinking  and  speak- 
ing under  the  shadow  of  this  goodly  tree. 
Only  so  shall  we  feel  safe  as  a  people. 

Has  the  seed  been  planted  in  our 
hearts?  Does  the  prayer  Christ  taught 
nourish  this  tiny  seed  in  our  life?  If  we 
can  say  Yes,  to  these  questions,  it  is 
enough.  The  kingdom  of  God,  which  is 
within,  without,  and  above  us,  shall  have 


THE   TREE    OF    GROWTH.  18 


Q 


infinite  meanins;  for  us.  Our  life  shall 
not  be  frittered  away  in  sordid  selfishness  ; 
but  "  We  are  laborers  together  with 
God,"  on  an  everlasting  structure  that 
shall  stand  when  the  heavens  are  rolled 
together  as  a  scroll,  and  all  that  is  seen  has 
vanished.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  a 
reality.  Let  us  live  for  its  glory  and 
labor  for  its  growth. 


THE   TREE   OF   REDEMPTION. 

Who  His  own  self  bare  our  sins  in  His  own  body 
on  the  tree.  —  1  Peter  ii.  24. 

And  He  went  out  bearing  the  cross  for  Himself. 
—  John  xix.  17. 

Heroism  is  always  attractive  to  us. 
The  brave,  chivalric,  manly  deed  always 
wins  applause.  We  like  to  see  life  at  its 
best.  Anything  that  will  not  break  under 
heavy  pressure  is  valuable.  You  may  sec, 
on  the  streams  which  run  from  Ihe  north 
in  many  of  our  States,  from  time  to  time 
during  the  year,  quantities  of  timbers 
drifting  slowly  with  the  current.  They 
have  no  motion  of  their  own  ;  they  move 
only  with  the  stream,  following  all  its 
bends,  dropping  over  all  its  falls.  But 
when  those  timbers  are  wrought  into  the 
ship,  and  the  tree  becomes  the  mast ; 
when  winds  are  taken  into  the  sails,  and 
direction  is  given  to  the  vessel  laden  with 
goods  and  life, —  then  we  are  impressed  and 
interested  as  we  never  could  be  in  watch- 


THE    TREE    OF    REDEMPTIOX.  185 

iiig  simply  the  raft  tardily  floating  upon 
the  current.  Just  so,  life  may  be  borne 
along  upon  a  stream,  moving  only  accord- 
ing to  the  motion  of  affairs  ;  or  it  may  take 
into  itself  a  purpose,  and  become,  like  the 
ship,  a  burden-bearer  in  the  world. 

Christ  bearino^  the  cross  for  Himself  is 
the  picture  given  us  in  the  text,  and  it  is 
one  which  seems  to  belong  with  what  pre- 
cedes. At  the  very  threshold  of  our 
theme  we  are  reminded  how  that  loneliness 
of  Christ  in  His  cross-bearing  extends  to 
all  mankind.  We  C!\nnot  have  each  other's 
companionship  in  the  highest  or  the  deep- 
est points  of  experience.  In  the  depths 
of  grief  or  upon  the  summits  of  joy  there 
is  no  place  for  a  throng.  The  crowds  are 
on  the  open  thoroughfares  and  in  the 
market  places.  In  all  the  profounder  and 
more  exalted  passages  one  must  be  con- 
tent to  go  alone.  We  all  must  have  felt 
the  difficulty  there  is  in  trying  to  share 
the  weis^ht  of  real  trials  and  crosses  with 
fellow-men  ;  how  hard  it  is  for  the  hand 
of  tenderest  human  sympathy  to  grasp 
the  great,  heavy,  crushing  cross  that  falls 
upon  us  as  our  burden  in  the  journey  of 


186    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

life.  There  is,  in  the  experience  of 
ahiiost  all  of  us,  some  one  chief  thing 
worthy  of  being  called  a  cross.  What 
untold  stories  of  sighs  and  grief  and 
heartache  feather  about  each  one's  cross  ! 
There  are  many  little  trials,  vexations,  and 
perplexities  belonging  to  every-day  life  in 
home  and  in  business,  not  worthy  to  be 
called  crosses,  as  we  think  of  the  one 
great  burden,  the  real  cross,  which  absorbs 
so  much  of  the  sunlight  of  our  life,  and, 
like  a  desert,  seems  to  drink  up  the  very 
dews  of  heaven.  Is  it  a  galling  sense  of 
poverty?  Is  it  the  crushing  realization  of 
neglect?  Is  it  a  great  loss,  bringing  dis- 
tress or  loneliness?  Is  it  the  unfaithful- 
ness of  a  child  or  companion  ?  Is  it  the 
blighting  of  a  hope  or  purpose  ?  Is  it  the 
interruption  of  a  plan  of  life,  or  the  nar- 
rowness or  obscurity  of  life's  path  ?  Is  it 
some  disagreeable  bondage  or  service,  or 
some  work  you  feel  is  unworthy  of  your 
powers  ?  Is  it  an  infirmity  which  crowds 
out  joy  from  your  soul  ?  Is  it  some  great, 
constant  burden,  some  fiery  trial,  whitening 
all  too  soon  the  hairs  of  your  head?  Be 
the  cross  what  it  may,  it   is  that  which 


THE    TREE    OF    REDEMPTION.  187 

may  make  Christ's  example  in  cross-bear- 
mcr  siirnificant  and  savinsf  to  us.  I  think 
we  all  come,  sooner  or  later,  to  recognize 
that  crosses  must  be  borne.  They  drop 
down  upon  us  very  unaccountably.  Just 
when  we  are  doing  our  best,  pei'haps,  and 
are  most  clearly  in  the  path  of  duty, 
cherishing  the  noblest  and  highest  pur- 
poses, some  great  trial  comes  to  us,  and 
comes  to  stay'.  If  we  try  to  bury  it,  it 
comes  up  out  of  the  burial  place  ;  it  is 
with  us  while  we  play  and  while  we  work. 
There  is  no  closet  close  enouirh,  no  vault 
strong  enough,  to  keep  it  away  from  the 
heart  where  it  leans  steadfastly.  We 
may  conclude  that  He  who  created  this 
human  life  desiijned  that  crosses  should 
go  with  it.  There  is  something  of  adap- 
tation, too,  in  the  kind  of  cross  given  to  us  ; 
it  is  fitted  to  our  shoulders.  There  is 
truth  in  the  legend  that  tells  how  a  group 
of  saints  once  comphiined  of  their  crosses, 
and  were  finally  allowed  to  lay  down  each 
his  own  peculiar  load  ;  and,  when  the  pile 
was  completed,  each  could  choose  from  all 
those  gathered  crosses  the  one  he  felt 
would  be  easier  than  his  own.     So  each 


188    FKEDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

saint  went  his  way  with  a  fresh  cross  ;  but 
soon  they  all  returned,  tired  and  sore, 
throwing  down  the  galling  burden  they 
had  severally  chosen,  each  gladly  taking 
up  again  his  own  old  cross. 

Who  would  dare  to  rise  up  and  say  to 
any  fellow-man  to-day,  if  he  could,  "  Ex- 
chano:e  crosses  with  me  "?     Do  we  not  all 
realize  how  we  might  stagger  in  trying  to 
walk  with   the    burden   that   is    fitted   to 
another's  life  and  not  to  our  own?     The 
fine  art  of  life,  after  all,  is  to  know  how  to 
bear,  and  not  how  to  avoid,  the  cross.     It 
was  but  a  rude  thing  that  Christ  was  bear- 
ino-  as  He  went  forth  from  the  pnetorium 
towards  Calvary, —  bars  of  wood,  the  cross 
upon  which  He  was  to  be  crucified.     The 
greatest  burden  was  not  upon  our  Lord's 
shoulder,   but  upon  his  heart.     Men  saw 
the  symbol.     Christ  had  been  bearing  His 
own  cross  all  through   the   years   of  his 
ministry,  and  not  simply  on  that  Friday 
morning.     The  agony  and  sweat  of  Geth- 
semane  ;  His  intercessory  prayers  upon  the 
mountain-top  at  midnight ;  His  tears  over 
Jerusalem  ;    His  miracles    and    searching 
sermons, —  were  all  pressed  out  by  the  bur- 


THE    TREE    OF    REDEMPTION.  189 

den  upon  the  spirit  of  Him  who  "trod  the 
wine-press  alone." 

And  yet  the  cross  is  a  symbol  of  victory, 
the  very  means  of  salvation.  How  does  this 
appear?  How  can  it  be  possible  that  the 
heavy  burdens  of  the  soul  can  become  the 
soul's  strengtheners  ?  There  is  nothing; 
interesting  or  attractive  to  us  in  a  person's 
crying  over  his  misfortune  and  trouble- 
That  man  does  not  rouse  the  deepest 
sympathy  of  friends  and  neighbors,  who  is 
continually  whining  over  his  lot,  complain- 
ing of  the  cross  that  is  upon  him.  We 
like  to  help  the  man  who  refuses  help. 
There  is  something  strangely  attractive  in 
the  one  who  is  struggling  beneath  heavy  bur- 
dens. Then,  if  we  find  he  is  not  only  car- 
rying a  heavy  cross,  but  is  also  careful  to 
keep  the  cross  from  falling  upon  others,  we 
are  all  the  more  drawn  to  him.  We  all 
must  have  met  such  characters  in  our 
experiences.  We  may  have  just  gone  from 
the  side  of  one  who  thought  this  a  very 
bad  world,  and  God  a  very  unjust  Ruler, 
because  trials  are  so  great,  and  there  is  so 
much  to  contend  against, —  sickness,  losses, 
anxieties,  disappointments,  toil.     But  now 


190    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

we  come  face  to  face  with    one   who   we 
know  has  a  great,  fresh  trial,  or  a  long- 
horne  bunien  that  would  seem  enough  to 
break  down  the  spirit  and  quench  out  all 
briofhtness  of  life.     Yet  how  astonishingly 
cheerful  the  face,  how  buoyant  the  spirits, 
how  unlike  what  we  might  naturally  expect 
to  find  with  one  so  burdened  !     So  forget- 
ful of  self  this  one  seems  to  be,  that  you 
even   hesitate   to    ask    any   question   that 
might   indicate    sympathy.     There   seems 
to  be  no  place  for  condolence  or  compas- 
sion ;  you  feel  there  is  a  wealth  of  some- 
thing in  that  soul  which  you  have  not,  and 
you  feel  poorer  and  more  pitiable  even  than 
the  one  whom  you  stood  ready  to  help  and 
to  pity.     But  no  doubt  a  cross  is  there  ; 
and  it  seems  so  much  more  of  a  cross  than 
the  trial  of  which  others  so  loudly  and  sor- 
rowfully complained,  that  we  grow  aston- 
ished not  to  hear  complaints.     But  not  a 
word,  only  expressions  of  God's  goodness 
and    favor,    and   the    mercies    of    heaven 
vouchsafed  ;  and  we  are  silent  in  wonder. 
Through  such  experiences  we  gain  knowl- 
edoe  of  the  secret  of  this  matter  of  cross- 
bearing.      These    bright,    inspiring   souls 


THE    TREE    OF    REDEMPTION.  191 

who  never  complain  of  God's  hardness  or 
of  the  world's  shadows,  but  who  seem  to  be 
living  in  the  upper  airs  of  a  better  world  ; 
these,  who  have  borne  and  are  bearing 
crosses,  have  found  the  meanins:  and  the 
glory  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  for  they  bear 
all  their  burdens  for  His  sake.  Is  it  not 
this  living  out  of  self  and  for  others,  and 
for  that  chief  other  One,  our  Saviour  ;  is 
it  not  this  carrying  all  wealth  and  all  needs 
of  the  soul  straight  to  our  Divine  Master, 
that  brings  the  richest  of  life's  blessings? 
Events  that  meet  us  in  the  path  of  duty 
are,  after  all,  very  much  as  we  interpret 
them,  —  b;ine  or  blessins:.  The  loss  of 
friend  or  fortune  to  one  of  us  may  be  a 
great  caUimity,  a  fearful  discouragement. 
The  light  of  life  may  seem  to  go  out,  the 
power  of  reason  be  absorbed,  in  the  loss. 
To  another,  there  may  be  also  the  keen 
sense  of  loss,  the  night  of  personal  sorrow  ; 
but,  leaning  heavily  upon  the  arm  of  Him 
who  says  "the  waters  shall  not  overflow 
thee,"  he  goes  forth  bravely  l)earing  the 
trial  ibr  the  sake  of  Him  who  gives  all 
sifts,  and  sustains  us  with  all  our  crosses 
besides.  Then  his  sorrow  does  not  over- 
whelm. 


192    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

Do  we  not  all  know  that  it  makes  a  vast 
difference  with  us  whether  we  take  up  the 
common  toils  of  every  day  with  some 
inspiring  aim  and  object,  or  as  a  piece  of 
drudgery?  What  is  it  that  puts  nerve 
and  energy,  hope  and  faith,  into  the  lives 
of  men  who  go  forth  upon  the  multitudi- 
nous paths  of  human  toil,  but  the  love  of 
wife,  of  sons,  and  daughters?  The  group 
about  the  hearthstone  inspires  busy  men, 
and  helps  them  through  many  a  dark  and 
weary  hour  of  toil.  Then  let  your  cross 
come  down  before  you,  and  into  your  life  ! 
Does  God  mean  that  this  shall  be  a  great, 
dark,  saddening  thing  to  you  through  all 
your  life?  It  may  become  so,  but  it  is 
not  God's  will  that  it  should  be  so.  You 
may  hug  and  cherish  your  grief,  and  try 
to  persuade  ^^ourself  that  God  has  been 
hard  toAvards  you,  and  that  3^0 u  have  a 
perfect  right  to  be  hard  and  unloving 
towards  Him,  and  so  go  on  dragging  the 
cross  in  gloom  through  all  your  experi- 
ences ;  or  you  may  lift  it  up,  like  the 
conquering  armies  of  Constantine,  saying, 
"In  this  sign  we  conquer." 

The  cross  is  God's  meeting-place  with 


THE    TREE    OF    REDE3IPTI0N.  193 

men.  It  is  where  those  who  grow  bright 
and  joyous  in  cross-bearing  find  sweetest 
communion  with  Him  who  is  able  to  suc- 
cor the  tempted  and  tried.  Let  every 
cross  be  taken  up  for  God ;  then  His 
strenijth  comes  into  arm  and  heart.  All 
the  life  grows  sunnier,  richer,  deeper. 
Bunyan  shows  us  Pilgrim  kneeling  at  the 
cross,  and  the  burden  there  rolling  from 
his  shoulders.  This  is  Christ's  instruction. 
He  bore  His  own  cross  for  His  Father's 
sake  — "Not  My  Avill,  but  Thine,  be  done." 
He  is  one  w^'th  the  Father;  and,  bearing 
His  cross,  salvation  and  eternal  life  come 
pouring  down  from  heaven  to  us,  and  to 
the  w^hole  world.  Our  crosses  should  take 
us  along  the  same  path  ;  then  we  shall  find 
them  the  means  of  victory  and  salvation. 
God's  strength  underneath  our  cross  will 
make  it  liaht,  and  His  face  above  it  will 
make  it  radiant.  Then  we  can  sins:,  "In 
the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory." 

There  is,  then,  a  way  by  which  life's  bur- 
dens may  cejise  to  be  heavy  and  depress- 
ing. There  is  a  way  by  which  the  very 
tears  we  have  shed  over  them  may  brighten 
into  a   rain))ow   of   hope    and  joy.     How 


194    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

often  it  is  true  that  the  richest,  fullest, 
purest  lives  issue,  like  mountain  streams 
of  crystal  water,  from  some  cold,  secret, 
rocky  place.  Not  long  since  a  friend  asked 
me  to  bend  down  and  look  through  the 
transparent  water  of  his  spring,  whence 
the  delicious  water  was  streaming  up 
through  the  face  of  a  huge  rock.  How 
often  the  attention  of  the  world  has  been 
arrested  by  the  appearance  of  some  noble 
character,  whose  eloquence  or  whose  song 
or  whose  reforming  zeal  has  made  a  century 
significant,  and  has  left  an  enduring  im- 
pression upon  the  whole  w^orld.  Yet 
many  such  whose  stream  of  influence  runs 
richly  and  powerfully  through  the  world 
must  say,  wilh  Paul,  that  it  broke  forth 
from  some  great,  stony  trial:  "in  perils 
of  waters,  in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  of 
mine  own  countrymen,  in  perils  by  the 
heathen,  in  perils  in  the  cit}^,  in  perils  in 
the  wilderness,  in  perils  in  the  sea." 

Then  afterwards,  when  the  stream  of  life 
has  broken  through,  Paul's  words  of 
triumph  become  the  experience  of  every 
victorious  soul :  "  I  take  pleasure  in  in- 
firmities, in  re[)roaches,  in  necessities,  in 


THE   TREE   OF   REDEMPTION.  195 

persecutions,    in    distresses,    for    Christ's 
sake.     For  wlien  I  am  weak   then  am  I 
strong."     Luther  was  hunted  by  enemies, 
locked  up  in  the  Wartburg  Castle  alone ; 
but  the  leaves  of  the  translated  Bible  pour 
out  through  the  doors  of  his  prison,  and 
are  scattered  throughout  Germany.     God, 
and  all  holy  voices,  came  to  help  the  man 
bear  his  cross  as  he  bore  it  for  his  Lord. 
So  the  apostle  made  every  trial,  imprison- 
ment, beating,  shipwreck,  a  new  spring  of 
power,  as  he  endured  all  for  Christ's  sake. 
Let  us  not  pray  for  an   escape  from  the 
cross  that  is  ours,  but  bear  it  as  Christ 
teaches  us;  bear  it  for  God,  whatever  it 
may  be.     Then  our  cross  is  transformed. 
We  find,  with  Paul,  that  God's  grace  is 
sufficient  for  us;  our  "strength   is    made 
perfect  in  weakness."     Our  life  shall  grow 
deeper  and  fuller  as  we  go  forth  in  His 
spirit  Who  bearing  His  cross  trod  the  path 
of  obedience  and  died   for   us,  and    then 
rose  again  from  the  dead  as  the  promise 
and    power   of    an    endless    life    for   His 
disciples. 


THE  TREE  OF  LIFE. 

"  Blessed  are  they  that  do  His  commandments, 
that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and 
may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city." — 
Kev.  xxii.  14. 


Like  some  grand   and  ancient  tree   of 

the  forest — like  the  tall  and  over-reaching 

cedar  of  the  north  —  above  the   common 

reach  of  trees,  so  that  it  is  seen  from  far 

away  with  its  crown  of  everlastingness,  — 

is  this  tree  of  the  kingdom  —  the  tree  of 

life  !     Spoken  of  in   Genesis  as  the  tree 

in  the  midst  of  the  garden,  and  kept  by 

a  guard  of  cherubim   at  the  east  of  the 

garden  of  Eden,  we  learn  but  little  more 

about  this  tree  until  John  sees  it  in  the 

Apocalyptic  vision  on  Patmos,  while  the 

curtains  of  mortal  sight  drew^  back  for  a 

season,  and  let  in  upon  him  the  revelation 

of  things  of  the  other  world. 

Those  first  words  about  the  tree  of  life 
in  the  story  of  creation  kindle  a  deep  in- 
terest in  it,  for  the  words  there  indicate 
that  something  vastly  good  for  us  is  iu  the 
fruit  of  that  tree* 


THE   TREE    OF    LIFE.  197 

The  words  in  Genesis  about  the  tree  of 
life  are  few  and  poetic,  and  possible  mys- 
tical, but  they  are  clear  in  telling  us  that 
there  is  no  finding  this  tree  by  accident, 
or  l)y  stealth.  No  one  can  steal  the  fruit 
of  the  tree  of  life. 

There  are  flaming  swords  that  keep  all 
such  ways  leading  to  the  golden  fruit  of 
that  central  tree  of  God's  warden. 

Tireless,  sleepless  cherubim  keep  the 
way  for  those  who  walk  as  God  has 
planned. 

Oh,  wonderful  truth  about  this  tree  of 
life,  shining  out  of  the  poetic  story  of 
creation,  and  deepening  and  broadening 
through  all  the  history  of  humanity,  till 
the  words  of  Kevelation  repeat  the  truth 
in  celestial  pictures,  that  "  to  him  that 
overcometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  tree 
of  life,  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  Para- 
dise of  God." 

That  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life  is  for 
those  who  search,  and  see,  and  strive,  and 
suffer,  and  obey  —  that  the  tree  of  life  is 
for  those  who  hunger  after  righteousness, 
and  who  are  willing  to  be  led  by  God's 
cherubim  —  this  is  the  great  truth  about 


198    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

the  tree  of  life  in  the  Paradise  of  Genesis, 
and  in  the  Paradise  of  Revelation. 

Definiteness  of  description  we  have  not 
as  to  the  tree  of  life.  It  is  doubtful  if  we 
could  be  helped  much  in  reaching  the  tree 
of  life,  or  in  taking  its  fruit,  had  we  any 
more  w^ords  about  the  tree,  as  to  dimen- 
sions, shape,  texture,  and  other  features  of 
goodly  trees  of  earth. 

Doubtless  there  is  something  greater 
for  us  to  think,  because  of  the  unsaid 
things  about  the  tree.  It  is  not  always 
mere  words  that  we  need  to  help  us  up 
into  truth. 

It  would  be  easy  to  complain  of  the 
revelator's  way  of  speaking  of  the  tree  of 
life,  as  growing  on  "  either  side  of  the 
river  of  the  water  of  life  "  ;  but  how  could 
the  tree  seem  different,  if  its  roots  drink 
the  water  of  the  crystal  stream  from  God's 
throne ;  and  its  twelve  kinds  of  fruit 
among  the  healing  leaves  reach  out  on 
branches  which  touch  the  outermost 
bounds  of  heaven,  and  overshadow  the 
white-robed  throng  coming  up  out  of 
"every  kindred  and  tongue,  and  people 
and  nation  "  ? 


THE   TREE    OF    LIFE.  199 

We  may  rejoice  that  the  Bible  gives  so 
much  support  to  our  instinctive  wish  to 
have  heaven  look  to  oui  unveiled,  spirit- 
ual vision,  as  this  world  in  its  best  estate 
looks  to  our  mortal  eye  ! 

We  like  to  think  that  for  every  bright, 
glistening  gem  of  earth,  for  every  beauti- 
ful form  and  object  here,  there  is  a  corre- 
sponding one  for  the  new  and  keener  eye 
of  the  spirit. 

For  the  trees  of  the  earth  that  so  trans- 
form this  dreary,  rocky  sphere  into  lands 
of  beauty  and  fertility —  for  the  trees  that 
are  the  shelter  and  home  of  birds  —  the 
guardians  of  the  ground's  fertility  —  and 
which  are  verily  "  man's  life,"  there  must 
be  something  like  them  yonder. 

What  would  it  be  in  beauty,  in  healing 
and  in  health-o'ivins:  fruita^i^e  should  there 
grow  up  by  us  out  of  our  earth  one  colossal 
tree,  having  all  the  fruits  known  on  earth 
which  gratify  and  feed  humanity? 

Would  this  not  be  a  return  to  the  ideal 
life  of  man  on  earth  —  the  Paradisaic  life, 
that  God  made  possible,  but  which  man 
refused.  That  disobedient  hand  which 
reached  up  and  took  what  God  forbade, 


200    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

closed  the  sfates  of  the  2farden-life  of  man 
on  earth.  And  yet  we  may  think  what  it 
would  be  (  for  us  )  if  instead  of  these  days 
of  toil  and  sweat  —  in  the  house,  in  the 
field ,  in  the  office,  study  and  market  place  — 
we  had  only  to  pluck  from  some  branch 
of  this  o^reat  tree  its  tasteful  fruits,  and  live 
in  the  midst  of  sonir  and  fellowship  and 
rest  or  joyful  action. 

But  even  in  the  world  as  it  is,  even  in 
our  life  of  toil  and  sweat,  which  iiesh  and 
sin  made  needful,  we  almost  have  this 
tree.  How  the  chano^ino^  seasons  and  the 
moving  months  bend  down  to  our  very 
hands  the  branches  of  the  sweetest  and 
best  of  fruits  ! 

The  branches  that  s^row  over  the  dis- 
tant  zones  come  round  to  us,  so  that  we 
have  close  by  us,  right  here  even  on  these 
rock-faced  hills,  richly  laden  branches  of 
life-ofivins:  fruit,  so  that  we  must  often 
think  that  God  is  more  than  providential. 
It  must  be  that  God  is  love,  to  so  make 
the  richest  of  fruits  to  succeed  each  other 
in  lavish  abundance  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  the  season  of  growth. 

Need  we  wonder,  when  we  think  of  this 


THE    TREE    OF    LIFE.  201 

bounty  of  the  tree  of  temporal  lioclily  life, 
that  the  ai)Ostle  saw  in  his  new  vision  of 
the  new  world,  a  tree  of  life  with  "twelve 
manner  of  fruits,  yielding  her  fruit  every 
month,  whose  leaves  were  for  the  healing 
of  the  nations  "  ? 

But  we  are  interested  now  in  the  path 
leading  up  to  the  tree  of  life  ! 

There  is  a  beatitude  that  arrests  our 
attention  as  we  look  where  John  points. 
"  B leased  are  they  that  do  his  command- 
ments." 

Then  we  remember  the  path  which  our 
first  parents  took,  and  the  death-dealing 
fruit  they  picked  and  ate.  We  recall 
hov/  that  path  led  away  from  Paradise, 
l)ecause  it  led  away  from  God. 

What  a  hard,  lasting  lesson  God  gave 
at  the  very  beginning  of  humaii  history, 
that  there  is  no  tree  of  life,  no  garden  of 
Eden,  no  jo}^  no  rest,  no  song,  where 
God  is  not. 

How  early  and  how  long  man  has  tried 
to  make  grow  another  tree  of  life  than 
the  one  God  has  made,  and  a  Paradise 
where  God  has  not  walked.  And  so  we 
have  the  tree  of  death,  the  thorny  earth, 


202    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

tears,  sweat,  anguish,  a  requiem  to  which 
the  history  of  hutuanity  is  set. 

To  try  to  find  more  and  better  life, 
where  God's  voice  does  not  approve,  is 
like  cleaving  into  granite  for  water,  or 
planting  an  evergreen  in  ice,  or  trans- 
planting flowers  to  a  sunless  cellar. 

If  over  the  path  to  the  tree  of  life  is 
the  beatitude,  over  the  path  to  the  tree  of 
death  is  the  curse. 

There  is  a  fork  in  the  road  to  th^  tree 
of  life.  Every  one  must  stand  some  day 
where  the  road  divides,  and  settle  the  ques- 
tion for  himself  whether  he  will  take  the 
apward  path  that  God's  voice  and  cheru- 
bim point  out,  or  the  downward  path 
where  Satan  leads. 

In  the  first  Paradise,  disobedience 
brought  spiritual  death  which  is  self- 
banishment  from  communion  with  God. 

In  the  new  Paradise  which  John  sees 
in  his  vision,  it  is  obedience  that  gives 
right  to  the  tree  of  life. 

I  wish  that  we  might  all  now  gain  the 
fullest  possible  impression,  from  this  truth 
that  gives  added  significance  to  John's 
vision  of  the  tree  of  life. 


THE    TREE    OF    LIFE.  203 

"  That  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree 
of  life." 

We,  after  all,  like  to  take  blessings  in 
the  feeling  that  we  have  a  right  to  them. 

While  we  recognize  that  every  good  and 
every  perfect  gift  cometh  from  God, "  with- 
out money  and  without  price,"  while  we 
know  well  that  everything  we  seem  to 
earn  is  after  all  a  part  of  a  gift  of  God 
to  us,  still  God  lets  us  feel  that  we  do 
possess  blessings,  and  the  fruits  of  His 
tree  of  life  by  a  right. 

And  so  the  cry  comes-  to  us  :  — 

"  Shall  I  be  carried  to  the  skies 

On  flowery  beds  of  ease, 
While  others  fought  to  win  the  prize, 

Or  sailed  through  bloody  seas  ? 

"  Sure  I  must  fight,  if  I  would  reign; 

Increase  my  courage,  Lord  ! 
I  '11  bear  the  toil,  endure  the  pain. 

Supported  by  thy  word." 

No  one  can  think  of  himself  as  happy 
hereafter  in  the  shadow  of  God's  tree  of 
life,  if  he  has  always  tried  here  to  girdle 
it,  or  if  he  has  never  dug  about  its  roots 
and  worked  a])out  it  as  God  directs. 


204    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

But  it  is  Ji  blessed  right  one  feels  to  the 
fruit  of  the  tree  of  life,  when  he  knows  he 
is  ready  to  do  God's  commandments. 

How  does  the  boy  feel  at  his  father's 
house,  as  he  carries  about  in  his  bosom  a 
rebellious  disposition  toward  the  parent, 
and  mutters  to  himself  that  he  will  not 
obey  so  soon  as  his  father  leaves  his  side  ? 
Ah,  how  his  disobedience  puts  impassable 
gulfs  of  separation  between  himself  and 
his  father,  and  even  though  his  father  is 
in  his  sight,  he  is  ten  thousand  leagues 
away  from  the  father ;  he  does  not  feel  a 
right  to  the  home,  though  his  father  pleads 
to  have  him  act  as  a  partner  there  !  How 
God's  whole  life  and  revelation  seem  to 
bring  out  the  yearning  of  his  heart  to 
have  us  His  children  feel  a  right  to  the 
tree  of  life,  which  is  the  sum  of  all  things 
desirable  and  blessed. 

"To  as  many  as  received  Him,  to  them 
gave  He  the  right  to  become  the  sons  of 
God."  How  the  Gospel  of  Christ  fills 
this  truth  with  a  living  reality  ! 

He  who  comes  into  the  world  as  its 
Saviour,  the  Son  of  God,  comes  to  make 
the  world  feel  a  right  to  heaven,  whose 


THE   TREE    OF    LIFE.  205 

fulness  and  blessings  He  reveals !  He 
comes  to  point  the  way  to  the  tree  of  life, 
the  abundant  life,  the  eternal  life,  which 
He  calls  the  knowledge  of  "  God  and  of 
Jesus  Christ  whom  He  hath  sent."  "To 
know  thee,  the  only  true  God;"  this  is 
eternal  life.  He  lays  Himself  down  as  a 
willing  gift  and  sacrifice  for  men,  calling 
Himself  "  the  Way,"  and  asking  the  world 
to  follow  up  by  the  path  of  obedient  disci- 
pleship  to  the  mansions  He  is  preparing 
beyond  the  gates  of  the  city,  around  the 
tree  of  life.  No  flaming  swords,  no  cher- 
ubim any  more  to  keep  the  way  of  the 
tree  of  life,  but  the  keen,  searching,  divid- 
ing sword  of  His  Spirit,  that  casts  a  direct- 
ing beam  of  light  upon  every  one  "that 
cometh  into  the  world,"  and  convinces  "of 
sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment  to 
come." 

Then  do  we  not  all  know  the  Tree  of 
life  —  Him  "  in  whom  all  fulness  dwells," 
who  is  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  Root  and 
Oflspring  of  David,  the  Branch,  the  Vine, 
the  Bread  of  Life,  the  Hidden  Manna,  the 
Rose  of  Sharon,  the  Lily  of  the  Valley, 
the  Light  of  the  World,   the   bright    and 


206    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

morning  Star,  the  Sun  of  righteousness, 
the  Strength  to  the  poor,  a  Refuge  from 
the  storm,  the  Hope  of  His  people,  a  Horn 
of  Salvation,  the  Rock  of  Ages,  tlie  Tree 
of  Life?  Yes,  this  Tree  is  planted  by  the 
river  of  life,  and  the  fruits  drop  at  the  feet 
of  every  believer. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  season  of  fruit- 
age of  the  tree  of  life.  To  express  its 
perennial  bearing,  the  Apostle  says  it 
"  yields  fruit  every  month  "  ;  and  to  illus- 
trate its  completeness,  he  says  it  "  bears 
twelve  manner  of  fruits ;  "  and  to  show  its 
healthfulness  he  says  "  its  leaves  are  for 
the  healing  of  the  nations."  Oh,  how 
healing  are  the  fruits  of  the  Tree  of  Life  ! 
We  know  how  healing,  how  refreshing 
are  the  fruits  that  come  to  our  bedside  in 
sickness,  by  the  hands  of  loving  friends  ! 
When  every  other  food  is  loathed,  how 
the  clean,  fragrant  fruit  is  welcomed,  and 
how  its  juices  revive  us,  and  seem  to  be 
the  great  medicine  for  the  fevered  body  ! 

What  are  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  — 
love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentle- 
ness, goodness,  faith,  when  reached  to  us 
in  the  hours  of  trial  ?     These  fruits  that 


THE   TREE    OF    LIFE.  207 

grow  up  on  the  light  sun-lit  branches 
of  the  tree  of  life,  how  precious,  as  they 
come  from  the  hands  and  hearts  of  those 
who  do  Christ's  commands  for  His  sake  ! 
How  these  fruits  of  the  celestial  tree  of 
life  revive  us  when  the  world  palls  upon 
our  senses,  when  sorrow,  or  sin,  or  loss, 
or  death,  make  all  things  seem  a  mockery 
to  us  !  Then  it  is  that  we  learn  the  use 
of  the  tree  of  life. 

Can  we  not  see  this  tree  of  life  now, 
through  the  apocalyptic  vision,  as  the  sum 
and  fulness  of  all  God  has  for  our  im- 
mortal life,  in  the  boundless  garden  of 
His  universe? 

The  tree  of  knowledge  is  as  high  as 
eternity ;  its  branches  are  along  the  bend- 
ing paths  of  the  spheres ;  the  constella- 
tions, the  clusters,  and  the  fixed  stars  are 
the  gold  and  silver  surfaced  fruits  of  that 
tree. 

But  the  tree  of  life,  who  shall  say  where 
its  branches  reach,  and  what  its  fruits  are 
like  ? 

Enough  is  it  for  us  now  to  feel  that  we 
have  a  right  to  the  tree  of  life  ;  then,  when 
the  gates  shall  swing  open  for  us,  and  we 


208    FREDERICK  SARGENT  HUNTINGTON. 

shall  see  His  face,  we  shall  know.  Tast- 
ing here  the  joys  of  o])edient  doing  His 
commands,  we  shall  have  a  right  to  eat  of 
the  fruits  of  the  tree  forever. 

We  shall  find  doubtless  among  its 
branches  the  great  and  the  good  of  every 
age.  Moses  not  now  reaching  tables  of 
stone  to  stubborn  Israelites  ;  but  leading 
still  his  people,  and  the  hungering  and 
thirsting  ones  of  other  peoples  to  the 
higher  ])ranches  for  riper  fruits  of  the  tree 
of  knowledge  and  the  tree  of  life  ;  for  he 
who  eats  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life, 
has  the  seeds  of  more  life  to  plant.  The 
fruit  contains  the  seed. 

I  fear  we  often  indulge  too  much,  a 
sleepy,  enervated  conception  of  heaven, 
when  we  think  of  it  as  all  a  bare  resting 
place.  The  poor  tired,  aching  diseased 
body  breeds  this  heresy  to  nature.  Look 
at  the  rosy-cheeked  boy  who  feels  no  pain 
and  has  no  lameness  !  How  he  runs  and 
loves  to  spring  from  one  action  to  another 
in  perfect  ease  and  elasticity  of  nerve  and 
-muscle.  You  make  a  prison  for  him  when 
you  shut  him  up  in  a  little  room,  or  com- 
pel him  to  rest. 


THE   TREE    OF    LIFE.  209 

Let  the  hampering  shell  of  the  crippled 
invalid  drop  away,  the  flesh,  and  you 
shall  see  a  bounding  elastic  spirit  as  free 
and  restless  as  the  child's,  though  four- 
score years  have  made  dull  and  slow  every 
faculty  acting  through  the  flesh. 

In  this  world,  and  now,  he  who  lives 
the  fullest,  freest  life,  is  the  one  who  lives 
in  many  interests,  and  who  crowds  centu- 
ries of  work  into  decades  of  time.  So  we 
seem  to  have  a  supplement  to  John's  vis- 
ion in  that  lately  found  tomb  of  Rameses, 
w^here  there  is  cut  in  the  Egyptian  stone 
a  picture  of  the  tree  of  life.  On  the  walls 
of  the  tomb  of  Rameses,  there  is  the  bas- 
relief  depicting  the  apotheosis  of  the  king. 
He  is  represented  as  entering  the  society 
of  the  gods,  all  of  whom  are  engaged  in 
inscribing  his  name  upon  the  fruits  of  the 
tree  of  life ;  and  they  bear  in  their  left 
hands  the  emblems  of  perpetuity  during 
millions  and  millions  of  years. 

If  Egyptian  civilization,  with  its  slug- 
gish heathen  religion  and  philosophy,  could 
give  birth  to  such  lofty  thoughts,  need  we 
shrink  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Apostle, 
that   we  all  may  come  to    be  kings  and 


210        FREDERICK    SARGENT    HUNTINGTON. 

priests  unto  God  through  Him  that  hath 
loved  us? 

He  who  comes  from  God  to  us,  saying, 
"  I  am  the  vine,  and  ye  are  the  branches  " 
—  ye  who  believe  and  obey  me  —  He  also 
said  He  was  the  Light  and  the  Life  of 
men. 

While  Egyptian  faith  carves  in  stone 
the  tree  of  life,  and  makes  a  picture  of 
gods  meeting  the  king  at  death,  and  lift- 
ing him  to  the  society  of  the  gods  ;  while 
they  write  his  name  upon  the  fruits  of  the 
tree  of  life  —  we  turn  to  the  Apostle's 
vision  of  the  new  Paradise, having  "  no  need 
of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon  to  shine  in 
it :  for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and 
and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof.  And 
the  nations  of  them  which  are  saved  shall 
walk  in  the  light  of  it ;  and  the  kings  of 
the  earth  do  bring  their  glory  and  honor 
into  it,  and  His  servants  shall  serve  Him. 
And  they  shall  see  His  face,  and  His 
name  shall  be  in  their  foreheads.  And 
there  shall  be  no  night  there,  and 
they  need  no  candle,  neither  light  of  the 
sun,  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  them  light, 
and  they  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever." 


THE   TREE    OF    LIFE.  211 

"  Hearken  !   The  voice  of  the  Lord 

Among  the  trees  !     Forth  by  the  waters  still 

Of  everlasting  comfort,  He  doth  lead 

His  people;  and  their  sun  shall  set  no  more, 

And  no  rough  winds  shall  rise  to  blow 

Upon  their  heads.     For  God  himself  doth  keep 

This  garden:  every  moment  with  His  dews 

Doth  water  it,  and  shine  upon  it  with 

His  face.     What  time  the  SAveet  south  winds  do 

blow 
Upon  the  garden  all  the  spices  cast 
Their   fragrance   forth,  and   all  the    trees    are 

stirred 
To  heavenl}'  music,  and  the  people  walk 
In  white,  and  lo!  the  Lamb  is  in  their  midst." 


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